Tour of Duty
by PHXYote
Summary: AU. The Enterprise's new captain puzzles over his senior staff, and a new nurse joins the crew looking for her lost love.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1, I Saw Her First!**

"I saw her first! Give it up, you green-blooded hobgoblin-!"

"Once again, Doctor, you are attempting to cause me alarm with your emotional outbursts. I assure you, I remain immune to them."

"Why you—"

"Gentlemen, is there a problem here?"

The Enterprise's First Officer, Chief Medical Officer, and Chief Engineer all scrambled to their feet as their Captain entered the officers' lounge.

"At ease, gentlemen," Captain Kirk said. He was new to the ship, and had been on board for a little over more than four Earth weeks. "Can anyone tell me what exactly you two are fighting about this time?"

The CMO glared at the First Officer, who calmly gazed back at him before facing the Captain. "Nothing of importance, sir. Just another case of near-insubordination from our Chief Medical Officer."

"Opinion, Mr. Scott? And may I?" the Captain said to the Chief Engineer as he sat down, gesturing at a bottle of whiskey on the table. The three other men seated themselves after he sat. Scotty, as he was known throughout the ship, reached behind to another table to grab an empty tumbler. He handed it to the captain. "With pleasure, sir. Please help yourself."

The Captain topped off Scotty's glass before pouring one for himself. "Your opinion on this… _debate_ , Mr. Scott?"

Scotty grinned at him, and glanced over at the two men, whose eyes remained locked on each other. "It's a fight over a _woman_ , sir."

"A woman!" Kirk was genuinely surprised. His evaluation of his First Officer was constantly changing. He'd received a surprisingly cordial greeting, not something he had expected from a Vulcan. He'd witnessed his ability to interact pleasantly enough with a new civilization on two visits to the planet they were now orbiting. From what he gathered from Sulu, the ship's chief navigator, the science staff all but adored working for him. And this display of brotherly bickering he'd seen more than once between him and the emotional (even for a human) CMO, well, this man Mr. Spock was quite a puzzle.

He wondered if thinking of him as a man was insensitive. He was, emphatically, a _Vulcan_. He'd have to check with Starfleet embassy staff on that.

* * *

Kirk had met Spock once before, years earlier, as a young Lieutenant just back from his first two-year tour of duty. He'd accompanied a friend to watch a hockey game at the Academy Coliseum, where the Cadets were hosting the Fighting Irish. Incredibly, the Academy's first-ever Vulcan student, now a third-year student, was a defensive player, albeit relegated to the bench and practice squad most of the time.

The game had been brutal; two Cadet starters were injured and a third was in a crowded penalty box. A replacement player skated in and the crowd leapt to its feet, roaring "Live Long and Prosper!"

The player, none other than that lone Vulcan student, was a zone defender and a crafty one at that. Two Irishmen staggered off the ice within a few minutes, dazed by his barely-legal checks. The tactic worked, and the Cadets managed to score the one point they needed to win the game one-nil.

Afterward, Kirk accompanied his friend, who had been a hockey standout at the Academy, to the locker room. They looked for Number 9 and found him shivering in a thick bathrobe as he answered questions from a local sports reporter. His hair stuck straight up around his pointed ears. His helmet and skates lay in a puddle in front of his locker, his uniform already rumbling inside a refresher. Kirk's friend walked up to him and introduced himself and Jim.

The reporter, an old veteran of Academy sports, recognized Kirk's friend and quickly finished interviewing Spock. "How's the hockey on the ice planets?" he asked the other officer and the two were soon catching up with one other.

Kirk handed Spock a dry towel. "How did a Vulcan learn to play hockey like that?" he asked. "Don't tell me you learned to play in the desert!"

The cadet rubbed the towel over his hair and face before answering. "My mother's family is from Calgary," he explained. "I learned to play during visits with my cousins. I was never fast enough for offence, but since my body is denser than a human's, it is logical for Coach to bring me in for zone defence."

He then excused himself for a hot shower and much-needed visit to the sauna "to thaw myself out."

* * *

Now that defenceman was watching the CMO, who was practically shouting about his dire need for nursing staff, with something like bemusement. "Really, Doctor," he said with a slight hint of teasing in his voice, "The need for additional medical staff is quite redundant. No one dares to get sick with you in charge."

McCoy's expression grew even darker and Kirk began to wonder if he might have an all-out brawl on his hands. Then, to his surprise, the doctor burst out laughing. "I won't give up on this one, _sir_ ," he managed to gasp. He turned to Kirk. "Captain, we are severely short-staffed in sick bay. Our people save lives and that's a little more important than staring down a microscope all day long looking at new rocks from new civilizations."

Scotty snorted. "Point, McCoy."

"Those rocks, _Doctor_ McCoy," Spock began, "often contain minerals that can give us insights into the development of new life forms we may encounter with those new civilizations. These insights, _Doctor_ , can help us develop immunizations and treatments for life-threatening ailments such as those we encountered on Mantilles, which resulted from spores emanating from the planet's dusty surface and inhaled by the population. Perhaps you recall that many developed a pneumonia-like breathing disorder unique to that solar system. It was those very rocks you disdain, _Doctor_ , that contained a unique mineral from which we were able to develop a powder to circumvent the disease."

 _How did he get all that out in one breath_? Kirk wondered. He sipped Scotty's scotch thoughtfully.

McCoy huffed and took a long drink of whiskey. Spock drank water; his mouth was quite dry after his speech.

Kirk smacked his lips. "This is really nice, Mr. Scott," he said. Turning toward the two other officers, he asked "is the woman in question a medical professional?"

"Yes." "No." The doctor and the First Officer spoke in unison. The doctor shot a look at Spock, who raised an eyebrow at him. "I suppose she could classify as medical, Captain. However—"

"No howevers!" McCoy yelled. "You said 'Uncle'!"

"I said no such thing. If you could control yourself _for just a moment, Doctor_ ," Spock continued and turned back to Kirk. "I concur with the good doctor that medical needs additional support staff, at least one but preferably two. However—" he shot a look at McCoy, who had opened his mouth to interrupt but then shut it. "The officer in question is far more qualified to serve on the science staff than as a nurse."

"She's a registered nurse and BSN with experience serving with embassy medical staff on Orion," McCoy huffed.

"She has a master's degree in xenobiology," Spock countered. "She has been accepted into the doctoral program at Tulane University. She is associated with Roger Korby, who pioneered the geomedical research you have just conceded is a worthwhile endeavor."

"You have what, 80 staff up in the labs?"

"Sixty-five, Doctor, of whom 32 split their time with other duties outside Science."

Kirk spoke up. "This is easy to fix, gentlemen," he said. "Is there any reason that this officer can't split her time between medical and science?"

"Oh Captain," Scotty interjected, "you wouldna want to subject the poor lass to both Mr. Spock and Dr. McCoy! She'd be putting in for a transfer after a fortnight!"

"Captain," McCoy said earnestly, "we have emergency situations in medical. I need experienced staff to handle these as well as the routine work. Right now, my people are pulling double shifts if someone manages to get shore leave—and I haven't approved any in three months-or gets sick. If this were a hospital emergency room, we'd be considered short-staffed and have to refer patients out. That is _not_ an option on a starship!"

"Sir," Spock spoke up. "The necessity for additional medical staff is well-known. But I am convinced that Lt. Chapel's talents are better served in the science department."

"Well," Kirk said thoughtfully as he took a few more sips of Scotty's excellent Scotch, "what assignment has the Lieutenant accepted for her tour of duty?"

" _Nursing_ ," McCoy said triumphantly. "She was one of about 40 applicants. _I'm_ the one who found her, _I_ was the one who took time to interview her"—he shot another look at the expressionless First Office—"and I, _and only I,_ offered her a position. She fully expects to be reporting to _me_. _I_ should be the one to claim her. _This one_ "— he pointed to Spock—"wouldn't even know she existed except that he approves officer assignments below Lt. Commander ranking."

Spock was silent. He knew when he was beaten. But he'd read Chapel's resume eagerly and immediately thought of a bioscience slot for her on his staff.

Kirk turned to look at him. "Mr. Spock, it appears the doctor has won this battle. Lt. Chapel will report for medical duty when she comes aboard…and that is when, Doctor McCoy?"

"Four days from now. We'll be getting some new transfers at the time, aren't we Spock?"

"We are, Doctor. _Your_ nurse, three Engineers' Mates, a petty officer second-class who will oversee general ship maintenance, a boatswain's mate, and four Ensigns assigned to intelligence, logistics, communications, and purchasing."

"Mr. Spock, does the Enterprise have any kind of meet-and-greet event for new crewmembers?" the Captain asked.

"Yes, sir, one of my first assignments from Captain Pike when I became Executive Officer was to create an orientation program for the ship."

"He puts on one nice shindig, I can tell ye, Captain," Scotty said, topping off his and the Captain's glasses. "They went over so well there was no competition a'tall to replace Number One."

"Dr. McCoy helped," Spock interjected.

"Really?" Kirk couldn't help himself. "I can't picture the two of you shindigging together. So you _don't_ hate each other?"

McCoy laughed. "I know the hobgoblin from waaay back. I've even been to his home on Vulcan, and I stayed there during a summer semester at med school."

"Did you two meet at the Academy?"

Spock nodded. "The Doctor was a student in my First-Year Vulkansu language class. He nearly failed it."

"But you two became friends and bonded."

Spock briefly flushed a greenish tinge. "I would not put it in those terms, sir. We did become acquaintances, and he did stay with my parents on Vulcan while he attended the VSA medical school," he said. "They are still recovering from the experience."

Kirk, momentarily distracted by the green flush, laughed out loud. Scotty grinned into his drink and McCoy finished off his glass. "They _loved_ me, Spock. If they could, they would adopt _me_ and disinherit _you_."

"That much is sheer fantasy. If anything, they were fascinated by your rather colorful speech. And I do not believe my father has ever seen someone consume so much at first meal."

"Breakfast is…" McCoy started to say.

"…the most important meal of the day," Spock and Scotty said together, finishing the sentence for him.

"Well it is!"

Kirk was now thoroughly enjoying himself. "Mr. Spock, I would like to attend the orientation session, since I'm new myself. Count me in."

"As you wish, Captain." He rose. "Gentlemen, I must take my leave of you. A pleasure, as always."

Kirk stood up, too. "I think I should get going, too. Thank you for the scotch, Scotty, it was excellent. Dr. McCoy, I'm glad to know I won't have to settle any fights."

"My pleasure, sir. Good night, Captain, Mr. Spock." Scotty stood up, saluted, and smiled.

McCoy half-rose and waved at them in a mock half-salute. "Good night, Sirs."


	2. Chapter 2

Beautiful Friendships

"Walk with me for a minute, Mr. Spock?" Kirk said after they left the room.

"Certainly, Captain."

"Mr. Spock," Kirk began, "I am aware how you were close to Captain Pike. I know him, although not as well as I would like. I want you to know that nobody blames anyone on the Enterprise for what happened to him."

"Thank you, sir."

"And I know that it must be very difficult for the crew to accept a new Captain from the outside, instead of allowing you to continue with command. It's obvious to me that the crew looks up to you. And they don't know much about me.

"I intend to rely on you to be an active First Officer, one who will not just go by the book but who will question me, and challenge me when you believe a situation warrants it. I've seen and heard enough about captains who became isolated from their senior officers, or whose officers couldn't or wouldn't perform their roles. You are experienced with command, with department direction, and have highly valuable technical and scientific skills."

He stopped walking. Spock stopped as well and turned to face him. "Mr. Spock, I _am_ the Captain and I _will_ have the final command say on this ship but I _don't_ want to do this in a void. Pike and his officers created a solid association here. I _like_ it. It _works_. I want to preserve it."

Spock nodded. "I understand what you are saying, Captain, and I thank you for your kind words. Be assured, I did not desire to give up my science duties for the ship's command but I was and remain prepared to assume command if and when this is needed.

"And it is true, Captain Pike and Number One were exceptional to serve under. The crew embraced teamwork to a degree I've only experienced in one other place."

"And where was that?"

"On the Academy hockey team. When we practiced, we did it as a team. We weren't equals on the ice—as you know, I was merely a second-string player—but everything we did was as a team. It feels much the same on the Enterprise."

They began to walk again. "Of course, here there are two factors that strongly favor me."

"And they are?"

"One, a number of junior officers here were students of mine at the Academy. I personally sought out several for assignment on the Enterprise."

"You taught language classes?"

"I only taught the Vulkansu class for one year to fill an unexpected vacancy. My usual classes were astrophysics, biology, and third-and-fourth year computer science."

"All right, and what's that second factor?"

Two, I am the first First Officer with full Executive Officer duties, and the Science Officer. As my mother says, no one screws with _that_ combination."

"Mr. Spock, I have the feeling this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

Four days later, Spock, Chief Petty Officer O'Brien, and Senior Petty Officer Tamura stood waiting outside Shuttle Bay 2 to greet the Enterprise's new crewmembers.

It was much more relaxed than the last time a new crewmember came—their new Captain—came aboard. Captain Pike's accident and Number One's hasty departure soon after had drained the staff, particularly senior officers and NCOs.

During that time, Spock assumed command of the ship and turned over his duties as Science Officer to Lt. Rosen, the senior science officer after him. Rosen had not enjoyed the additional duties of a department head; he soon learned that he had little patience for the paperwork and missed the camaraderie of being part of the Science staff, rather than the chief. He felt intimidated by the Enterprise's senior staff, who worked like the proverbial well-oiled machine, unlike the nerdy, self-absorbed colleagues he had grown used to.

Spock turned to Tamura, who had recently been promoted on his recommendation, for help with Executive functions and placed her temporarily in charge of all ship purchasing. She took on the additional functions and shone in the role, quickly learning how to expedite certain low-cost orders, prioritize items that needed a senior staff signature, even how to cut through red tape and unnecessary paperwork.

"I trust the new logistics and purchasing ensigns will lighten your load, Officer Tamura," he remarked as they waited for the shuttle to land in Bay 3.

"I'm sure it will, sir," Tamura answered. "But truthfully sir, I will miss some of the purchasing duties. It gives one a kind of…respect that I hadn't expected." She grinned up at the First Officer, who raised an eyebrow. "Indeed," he said. This was useful information for him; it also explained why his requisitions had been fulfilled much more quickly than in the past.

"I trust the recent efficiencies will remain in place, Tamura."

"I will see to it that they do, sir." She was still grinning. Working for the First Officer had certainly brought her more than a few assignment perks.

A light above the shuttle bay flashed and they could hear the outer bay doors swoop open. "They are here," Spock said. He turned and pressed a comm button. "Spock to Captain," he said.

"Kirk here."

"The shuttle has landed, Captain."

"Thank you, Mr. Spock, I'm on my way."

Like Captain Pike, Kirk liked to be on hand to greet onboarding crew whenever possible. Spock had initially thought it an illogical waste of a Captain's time, but soon came to recognize that for many crew, it would be one of the few times they'd actually see the Captain. It was good for humans' morale to meet him, however briefly, and exchange salutes as they boarded the ship.

A few minutes later, the door light stopped flashing and turned a solid green. Spock pressed a panel to open the door and walked into a small entryway, O'Brien and Tamura behind him.

They watched as the shuttle's door opened and a yeoman jumped out to pull over a small set of stairs. He moved aside and saluted the first officer to emerge from the shuttle. A tall blonde woman with Lieutenant stripes on her uniform sleeves stepped out, returned the yeoman's salute, and walked over to Spock and the petty officers. A couple of bags were slung over her shoulders.

She stopped in front of Spock and saluted. "Lt. Christine Chapel reporting for duty, sir."

Spock returned her salute. "Welcome aboard, Lieutenant." He gazed into a pair of blue eyes, bluer than even McCoy's, and felt a momentary shock. What was _that?_ He could feel his blood flow increase, almost as if his instincts were warning him of something. But the woman in front of him seemed pleasant enough. He'd have to meditate on it later.

O'Brien and Tamura saluted Chapel. "Greetings, Lieutenant, please follow me and let me take those bags for you," Tamura said, and Chapel followed her out of the dock where Captain Kirk and his yeoman, Janice Rand, had just arrived, panting slightly from running.

Chapel saluted Kirk. "Permission to come aboard, sir?"

"Granted, Lieutenant, and welcome to the Enterprise."

It took only a few minutes for the shuttle passengers to disembark and salute the Captain and First Officer.

Spock stood in front of the new crewmembers lined up along the corridor that led from the shuttle bays to the deck. His hands were clasped behind his back. "I trust you had an uneventful journey," he began, nodding to Lt. Rivera, who piloted the shuttle. "We will move to a conference room for a short briefing and your bunk or quarter assignments. Your personal effects will be delivered there. Please follow me."

He led the group to a small conference room where he had arranged for a catered midday meal. The crew moved to the table and stood, waiting until he and Kirk were seated before they sat down. Kirk sat at the head of the table, with Spock on his left and Lt. Chapel, as the senior officer in the room, sat to his right. Rand and Tamura stood behind the Captain and First Officer.

"I only have a few comments for you at this time. First, I want to welcome all of you again to the Enterprise. I am Commander Spock, First Officer. I also serve as the ship's Executive Officer and Science Officer. You have met Captain Kirk."

He then introduced the three NCOs.

"As you may have surmised, I am from Vulcan. I have served on the Enterprise since she first launched 11 years ago. This is my third tour of duty with her.

"I have arranged an orientation and dinner for you at 1900 hours in the NCO lounge. There you will hear more about the Enterprise and her crew, and I can answer questions you have. The only other thing I wish to add is to advise you that you do not need to salute senior officers when you encounter them in the corridors. On a spaceship, you will stand at attention when the Captain or First Officer pass. Saluting is only necessary when greeting crew and dignitaries about to board the ship or one of our shuttles taking them here.

"Please help yourself to these refreshments. I have included vegetarian options as well. Sir?" he looked at Kirk.

Kirk tilted his head, acknowledging Spock's deference to command. "Dismissed."

The crewmembers rose after Kirk and Spock, who nodded at Lt. Chapel and motioned her to the buffet. "Please, Lieutenant, after you."

"Thank you, sir." She smiled at him and he felt that little shock and blood rush again. He noted that she was nearly as tall as he. She followed Kirk, who was inspecting the vegetarian dishes, Spock behind her. Kirk frowned. "I don't recognize this," he said, stirring the contents of a tureen.

"Plomeek soup, a Vulcan specialty," Spock explaied. Chapel turned to look at him. "Right, now I remember, most Vulcans are vegan. A wise choice."

"Pretty much everyone on Vulcan is vegan, Lieutenant. Do you also adhere to this?" He hoped she did. It would serve McCoy right to have a head nurse who wouldn't join him for steak nights.

"Vegetarian, actually, but I'm vegan-friendly." She smiled at him again. He returned her smile with the tiniest upward motion of his lips, but he knew his eyes were smiling. He wondered if she noticed.

"I think I'll try the meat-eaters table," Kirk smiled at them.

"I'll try the plomeek," Chapel declared. "It smells _delicious_." She ladled a bowl and moved to look over the other vegan options. Spock described the other Vulcan dishes. "That is pok tar, a kind of noodle stuffed with soy cheese and mild spice, here is gespar, which tastes similar to pineapple—Vulcans often eat it for breakfast but I consume it all the time-and some native berries. And over there, Terran vegetarian dishes."

Chapel nodded. Mr. Spock was far more, well, _personable_ than she'd ever expect from a Vulcan. It was also more than a little unnerving that the ship's First Officer would pay her this much attention. She'd expected a perfunctory welcome from a senior staff person, but here new crew were personally welcomed by the Captain and fêted by the First Officer. The Enterprise certainly was different than what she'd expected.

At the other end of the room, Rand and Tamura watched their First Officer practically fall all over the new nurse, at least by Vulcan standards. "I've never seen him like this," Tamura murmured. "This could be good for him." She elbowed Rand, whose mouth was slightly ajar. "Stop staring!"

Spock watched Lt. Chapel return to the dining table. She sat down and turned to the Ensign sitting next to her, and soon the two were chatting and comparing notes. He turned away and fixed his attention on two Ensigns opposite him who were looking warily at the pok tar. "That is a Vulcan specialty," he started to explain.


	3. Chapter 3, The Search for Roger

**The Search for Roger**

It was a precarious balance between caring for patients and working in the face of sudden, violent deaths of young people that initially turned Christine away from nursing and towards research.

Her fiancé, Roger Korby, was becoming a renowned medical archaeologist in his own right. He renewed the study of ancient medical techniques that could be used to create new immunizations. It was heady, _fascinating_ stuff.

She met Roger when she was earning her nursing degree. He'd been the teaching assistant assigned to her bio lab. After the semester ended, he asked her out and they'd hit it off. He won her over with his enthusiasm, combined with a nerdy sense of humour. It wasn't long before the two were a couple.

A year later, he completed his doctorate. A year after that, she moved in with him. She'd decided to enroll in a graduate degree that would bolster both her nursing credentials and her growing interest in biology. They became engaged, she completed her degree, and much to her surprise, was accepted into a doctoral program at Tulane.

They planned a wedding upon his return from a six-month visit to Exo III and to move to New Orleans. Roger was excited to head a new dig on Exo. He had secured funds from several sources, including the Vulcan Science Academy and a company called ArcheoloMed, which hoped his work would lead to new to vaccines and medicines.

And then Roger was reported missing, along with the rest of the 10-person crew. A search and rescue mission found no sign of anyone from Roger's group; neither did a search and recovery effort a short time later.

* * *

Back on Terra, Christine had been frantic to find any information about what had happened on Exo III. Starfleet and ArcheoloMed were both cooperative and readily kept her informed on the search, but there was never enough solid data to satisfy the scientist in her.

News of the new deep-space exploration funding given to Starfleet caught her attention. She immediately contacted Starfleet's Science office to inquire about the potential for investigation in the Exo area. There, she was advised to emphasize her medical skills over her bio skills, as there were shortages of medical personnel on the deep space missions.

So she put her doctoratal program on hold, renewed her nursing credentials, entered Starfleet's Medical Officer Corps training program, and completed a four-month tour of duty on Orion. Six months later, she received a Lieutenant's commission, an acknowledgement to her master's and nursing degrees.

From there, it was relatively easy for her resume to float to the top of the pile of resumes sent to the Enterprise's Chief Medical Officer. The Enterprise was a highly coveted assignment among any staff looking to work in deep space, where, she reasoned, there could be a better chance to delve into the Exo III mystery.

Leonard McCoy had turned out to be a terrific boss and mentor. From the start, he made it clear that he'd be conferring with her about medical and staff issues, let her know about upcoming landing party opportunities she might be interested in joining, and generally let her manage the nursing side of Medical as she saw fit.

At the same time, he was open to suggestions from the other medical staff and didn't seem to have the overblown ego she'd observed among other doctors.

Of course, there was a great deal of emergency medicine practiced, too, as encounters with these new life forms brought occasional dangers, including some serious injuries to landing parties. The red-shirted Security crewmembers had alarmingly high fatalities, which she resolved to address with her superiors at Starfleet Medical.

She'd seen her share of fatal injuries before joining the Enterprise and never got used to it as other medical staff sometimes bragged they had. People like that shouldn't be in medicine, she thought. While she hardly fell apart with every death or injury she encountered, she certainly felt that turning off one's emotions damaged the human side of medicine. She strongly believed that healers should be empathic toward their patients.

Take the security crew. They suffered a high number of casualties. Christine made sure to personally check their files to ensure they had complete documentation. Some had neglected to make living wills, or name someone on the ship to make medical decisions on their behalf. She had also reviewed the science staffs' records and uncovered a shocking number who were missing immunizations.

During her first six months, the Enterprise used up its entire stock of vaccines, leading to additional expenditures McCoy hadn't anticipated in his budget request. Commander Spock came into Sick Bay to asked him about it.

"Talk to the nurse," McCoy had answered. "Blame Chapel. She's making sure that lot of you up in the labs are protected from god knows what you're tangling with." Spock had turned to Christine, raising an eyebrow and eliciting a laugh from her. It didn't escape McCoy. "Better yet, keep your green hands off of her. Don't think I haven't forgotten how much you wanted her, hobgoblin!"

Christine asked him later what that was about, and learned for the first time that the two men had fought over her résumé. "I found you _first_. The pointy-eared bastard was trying to use his authority over personnel assignments to steal _my_ staff before they'd even come aboard!"

"So who settled it?"

"Scotty, in a way. The Captain was still new to the ship and suggested that you split your time between Medical and Science. Thank god Scotty spoke up and kept you away from the Hobgoblin Posse."

"I wonder if that's why he's so nice to me," Christine mused aloud. McCoy raised an eyebrow at her, just like Spock, she thought. "What do you mean, nice?" he demanded.

"Oh, you know, he brings me flowers and tea, all that romantic stuff, to woo me over to Science."

McCoy stared at her. "You'd better be joking. I wouldn't put it past him to do whatever it takes to get what he wants."

Christine burst out laughing. "Really, Len!" She sat down in a chair in the waiting area, tears leaking from her eyes. She started hiccupping. "Oh crap, now I won't be able to stop!"

Spock arrived that very moment, carrying a small box of slides with samples from a Breen moon sent to him through a secure contact. He saw Christine's flushed, teary face and shot an accusing look at McCoy.

"Doctor, Lieutenant, what is going on here?" he asked sternly.

Christine reached up to touch his arm. She didn't notice how he froze in response. "Relax, Mr. Spock," she hiccupped. "He's just making me laugh too hard!"

McCoy narrowed his eyes at both of them, taking in Spock's momentary freeze and Christine wiping away tears, still hiccupping. He shook his head. "Chris," he said, "I'm on a conference call til 1100. Could you review the labs on what's-his-name from Security, his t-cells?

"And you," he said, jerking his head toward Spock, "don't get her too interested in your green-blooded science-y schemes."


	4. Chapter 4, Settling In

**Chapter 4, Settling In**

Christine Chapel had settled in to her new post as the Enterprise's head nurse with little trouble. She was enjoying her work on the ship, even more than she had dared hope. Space exploration was fantastic and she was learning more about life on little-known planets, and even a few new ones.

She'd made friends, too. She met Lieutenant Uhura at the dinner Mr. Spock hosted for new crewmembers and the two hit it off right away. Nyota headed the ship's communications department and was a bridge officer. Like McCoy, she mentored her staff and actively encouraged them to advance and push themselves "outside their comfort zone," as she liked to say. She was one of the most outgoing people Christine had ever met, too; nothing seemed to rattle her. Not even a stare from the First Officer.

Christine hadn't been in the rec room the day Nyota decided to put words to a new song Mr. Spock was playing on his Vulcan lyre, but she'd heard about it from several others who were there. This included Janice Rand, the yeoman she'd met her first day on the ship. She'd become friendly with Jan, too.

As Jan told it, Mr. Spock was sitting in a corner of the general rec room, playing a bunch of different chords on his lyre. Uhura was listening with interest and shocked everyone present by asking him to sing. "Everyone sort of held their breath," Jan had told her. "And he just looked at her like she'd grown horns or something and said in that _voice_ of his, 'No, Lieutenant, lyrics are created _after_ the music.'

"So Nyota sidles up to him, leans down with that cleavage of hers in plain sight, and starts whispering in his ear…"

"No way!" Christine had gasped. While Mr. Spock was admittedly far more approachable than most Vulcans, few people would dare invade his personal space like that. Heck, few people would invade any First Officer's space like that. It just wasn't done.

"Yes, way!" Jan answered gleefully. "And he…kind of smiled up at her! I tell you Chris, that girl could flirt with a Klingon."

They both laughed.

"What then?"

"So he starts playing another tune, nothing any of us recognized, and Nyota starts singing about the Enterprise, and its mysterious and devilishly handsome First Officer…"

"Oh…my…god…"

"And she's putting her hands on his back and shoulders, _touching_ him, just singing away, and he had this _wonderfully_ goofy expression on his face. I tell you, Chris, it was priceless. I wish I had the nerve to ask Chekhov if Security has a tape of the whole thing!"

They laughed again. "If there was one, Mr. Spock has probably destroyed it by now," Christine said. "Do you think there's something between the two of them?" she wondered aloud.

"I don't think so," Jan answered. "But you know, Kirk keeps me pretty busy when I'm on the bridge. I've never seen anything to make me _think_ something is going on between him and Nyota. He is very attentive to the Captain, but that's his job. I've never really seen him speak to women on staff outside of the bridge or on landing parties, except for science staff of course, and, well, _you_."

"Only because I'm less threatening to him than Len," Christine grinned.

They laughed. "I also have something he wants."

"Really? And what would that be, Lieutenant?" Jan said in as deep a voice as she could muster.

"I have equipment I think he wants."

"Explain," Jan said, trying to deepen her voice.

"I can recognize abnormalities on bio samples he and the crew bring in that they would never notice."

"How's that?"

"I have a 3D microscope with 4DX capabilities that can interpret the conditions under which the sample you're looking at had developed. I had to practically pull Spock away from it when I showed it to him. I bought it for my last year in grad school. It has an interface that just blows away the stuff they have in the labs up there, the magnification is amazing. Honestly, for all the money they pour into those labs, they're using _old_ software to interpret the slides…oh, never mind." Jan's eyes had begun to glaze over.

"Well! I'd better be headed back up," Jan said brightly. "See you later, Chris!"

* * *

The friendships and banter were fun and served as a distraction from her near-obsession with finding Roger. If, of course, he could be found at all. He could be lost forever, dead or alive.

She was no longer 100% convinced he was still living. She'd learned a lot about life indicators during her few months on the ship. The absolute lack of them on Exo III from more sources than she'd been aware of had been a jolt.

But she still held out hope. If for nothing else, closure. She couldn't mourn Roger, not when anyone could say with any certainty if he was alive. But hoping was exhausting, particularly when there simply was no new information coming forth.

* * *

Spock appeared at Sick Bay one morning. McCoy and Chapel were recalibrating biobed readouts following an episode of turbulance that triggered a software shutdown.

"Whaddya want, Spock?" McCoy asked.

"My tricorder would be nice. And good morning."

"Oh, right, hang on a moment." McCoy disappeared into his office.

Christine tossed a smile at him. "Morning, Mr. Spock."

"Lieutenant." He felt his heart jump an extra beat.

"You loaned your tricorder to Dr. McCoy?" she asked.

 _Obviously_ , he thought. Rather than voicing it, he nodded. "And I need it back to reconfigure to obtain scans on Ceti Alpha Six." He cleared his throat.

"Ceti Alpha—you mean we will be going in that part of the sector?"

 _Yes, obviously_ , Spock thought, and again, kept his thoughts to himself. He nodded again. "We are going into deeper space-"

Christine sat down, feeling suddenly lightheaded.

"Nurse? Are you all right?"

McCoy came out of his office, tricorder in hand. "Here, Spock, I even added – Chris, what's wrong?" He rushed to Christine's side, turning Spock's scanner on her. "What happened?"

Christine shook her head. "Just got some unexpected news, Leonard—"

"That we're going near Exo?"

"Yes. I mean, this is great. It's why I'm here."

McCoy turned to Spock. "Had to be the one to tell her?"

"Len, _I'm fine_. It's exactly the news I've been waiting for."

"Nurse, I apologize, I did not foresee your reaction—"

"Mr. Spock, both of you, I'm fine! Please, it was just unexpected news. But good news." She rose out of her chair and turned to Spock. "Thank you for letting me know, sir. I know I have basic clearance and that might not be enough but—"

"We will be doing a fly-by to Exo III and send a probe to gather more data to help us determine if a landing party is advisable," Spock told her. "I will keep you informed."

"Thank you Mr. Spock."

He nodded, and she left the room.

McCoy eyed him. "I didn't know we were sending a probe."

Spock turned to face him. "I just decided this. It is logical from many points of view."

McCoy tilted his head. " _Indeed_." He watched as Spock nodded back and exited Sick Bay.

 _Hobgoblin's got it bad._


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5, Chaos and Virus**

Lieutenant Joe Tormolen was dead and no one could explain why.

After the landing party returned from the planet Psi 2000, they underwent decontamination even though they wore environmental protection gear while planet side.

But Tormolen died, apparently from a virus he picked up on the planet.

Which they weren't even _supposed to be on_ , McCoy thought to himself as he covered poor Tormolen.

It was difficult enough to break the news to his head nurse. She'd been all but giddy with the news that they were heading into deeper space and within a sector or two of the Exo system where she was crazy enough to think her missing fiancé might be found.

He'd held off scolding Spock about telling her too much, too soon. The entire crew were aggravated enough: practically everyone on board was there for a deep space mission, to find new civilizations and all that. Kirk had tried hard to hide his dismay. It wasn't his fault that Starfleet decided to put them on a rescue mission instead to a closer planet.

Spock, he decided, needed a big-brotherly kind of talking to. He was coming close to acting like a _human_ , for Surak's sake. Not to mention that he had a sort-of wife back on Vulcan, a gorgeous if blank-faced woman his parents—no, his father—had bonded him to when they were little kids. He understood enough about Vulcan society and development to get that Spock was, for all purposes, in late Vulcan adolescence. Not seeing T'Pring on a regular basis left her out of sight, out of mind—not unlike a human kid.

If Sarek saw what was going on, he'd be very, very disturbed.

Spock was far too interested in his nurse, who frankly wasn't all there all the time, in McCoy's opinion. Oh, she was highly skilled and a pleasure to work with. But this fantasy about finding the missing Roger was creepy. Anyone with a lick of sense who read the facts would conclude Roger was long gone but that didn't faze Christine, or at least not in public. She was gonna find him, or find out what happened.

Right now his disappointed nurse was frowning at data she'd scanned from Joe. Better for her to obsess over a medical mystery than badger him to get information from the Captain about when they'd return to their previous course.

That could bring another headache. To get back to the course, they would take a different route that would put them reasonably close to Vulcan. Which, he knew, could trigger a physiological reaction in Spock he'd rather not have to deal with.

* * *

Spock broke the news about Joe to his shocked science crew. Joe had been a respected officer, a quiet, studious man who spent his off-hours creating elaborate drawings of cell structures that decorated his quarters and many of the other crewmembers'.

After leaving his grieving science staff, Spock tried to compose a letter to Joe's parents. Writing to a crewmember's survivors and trying to convey how he grieved with them was never easy. He was never satisfied that he'd even come close to accomplishing the task. "Joe died in the line of duty," Spock tapped out, "doing what he did best—investigating scientific mysteries and helping come up with answers. He was an outstanding officer and a good man."

Still, it sounded so artificial, even when he added "I grieve with thee" in the Vulcan tradition. Yes, he was grieving but he couldn't really empathize. He hadn't lost a child like Joe's parents had.

He reviewed landing party tape and was shocked to see that Joe had actually removed a glove to scratch an itch. The question why Joe had done that bothered him and the few others with whom he shared this information. "Human error," Christine had suggested. "Carelessness," was Kirk's opinion. "Maybe he was distracted by something and just wasn't thinking," Nyota mused. But Joe knew better than anyone about containing contamination at the source. And whatever it was that killed him could survive the Enterprise's own decontamination process.

Whatever it was, it must be stronger than the average alien virus.

* * *

Sulu and O'Reilly from Engineering seemed to both be experiencing a kind of psychotic break. A few crewmembers reported that Joe had yelled at the pair in the break room shortly before he fell ill. Now Sulu was strapped down in Sick Bay, after running around the ship bare-chested with his épeé of all things. He'd grabbed Uhura on the bridge, too, but the Communications Officer was more than capable of shoving him away. It was only Spock's nerve pinch that finally put him out so that Security could carry him off to Sick Bay.

Spock was on his way there to coordinate samples from Sulu's and Joe's blood with the med lab when he witnessed a crewmember harassing Yeoman Rand. "Stand aside crewman!" he'd yelled and the man complied, apparently for just a moment because Rand later reported that she had to escape him by hiding out in the Captain's office.

He entered Sick Bay to find Sulu still knocked out, courtesy Lt. Chapel's adroitness with a hypo. "I've given him two doses," she told Spock. "I don't dare to do any more so I've put him in restraints." Spock gazed at the sweaty, unconscious man. "This affliction," he said out loud, "seems to awaken aggressive tendencies. You've heard that Tormolen fought with Sulu and O'Reilly earlier?"

Christine nodded. "Yes, I have. Strange. Joe was so quiet, hardly the fighting type. I was looking at some of the data from his scans and I saw that his cortisol levels were spiking…I wonder why?"

"Then Sulu has an …episode," Spock mused. "But he wasn't on planet for this mission."

"An episode with an épeé!" O'Reilly blurted out from a nearby bed.

Spock glanced at him and walked over to his bed. "How are you feeling, Mr. O'Reilly?" he asked.

"Just dandy, Mr. Spock. Just dandy."

"You are aware that Joe has died?"

"Yessir, I am. Joe's dead all right."

"You two were friends. Does that not upset you?"

"I am as upset as you are, Mr. Spock."

Spock started to turn away. O'Reilly grabbed his hand, pulling him back to the bedside.

"Are you upset, Mr. Spock?" he asked. "Can you be upset? Joe worked his ass off for you, do you know that?"

"I do, Mr. O'Reilly, I do." Spock pulled his hand away and walked out to the waiting room. He needed to think.

He felt a strange tingling in his hand and held it up. He was still staring at it when he became aware of Lt. Chapel standing in the doorway. "Mr. Spock?" she asked. "What's wrong?"

"My hand…" he said. He turned to face her. "And my heart."

"What…what's wrong with your heart?" she asked. "Are you having chest pains, numbness? Sit down, _now_." She gently led him to a chair pushed him down. Then she sat down next to him, pulling out her medical scanner and began to scan him. "How many fingers am I holding up?" she asked, spreading out three.

"Stop," Spock said. He took her hand in his, intertwining his fingers with hers. "You have no idea, do you Christine?" he asked.

She almost dropped the scanner. "No idea of…what, sir?" she managed to get out.

"Spock. My name is Spock, Christine."

"No idea of what, Spock? I really need to check you over." She found she couldn't remove her hand from his. Did she want to? She didn't move but stared into his eyes.

"My feelings. I do have them. Vulcans feel, Christine, far more than Humans can imagine. We have to keep our feelings and emotions controlled or we become…unpredictable. Even violent."

"Are you feeling violent, Spock?" she asked, remembering his comment about how the other men became aggressive.

"No, I am not. I control my emotions but I do have them. I would _burn_ for you, Christine. I _want_ to burn for you when it's my time. Only for you."

With that, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it.

Christine was speechless. And thrilled.

"I cannot have you. I want you but I cannot have you. Only if she releases me can I have you, and only if you would have me." Still holding her hand, he put his other hand, the one that was now tingling madly, to her face. He drew it close to his, and kissed her eyes, forehead, and finally her lips.

"Would you have me Christine?"

"I—uh—ummm…" She felt his arms wrap around her and pull her toward him. His lips touched her neck as his hand undid the clip that kept her hair in a French twist. "Spock, I—" and she was interrupted by another kiss.

" _What the devil is going on here!"_

McCoy had entered his sick bay to find his head nurse locked in an embrace with Spock, who seemed to be on the verge of seducing her right there in the waiting area.

"Christine! Spock! Get a hold of yourselves!" he almost shouted at them.

Spock released Christine and she quickly pulled away. They both looked shocked and dazed. McCoy watched as Spock rose and started to walk to the door. "Where the hell do you think you're going?" he snapped at the First Officer, who stopped and turned to face him.

"I do not know." And he left.

McCoy shook his head and turned to Christine. "Are you all right? What got into you two? Right out here where anyone can see?"

Christine looked up at him and began to cry. Huge, heaving sobs, for Joe, for Sulu who she had to strap down, that poor sweet man, for all the deaths she'd attended since her nursing training began all those years ago when she was young, before she'd even met Roger.

McCoy stood there, amazed. "Did he hurt you, Chris?" he asked gently.

"No," she sobbed. "It's all those people who died working in space. Why are we even here? It's dangerous. How many times can the Captain, can Spock, cheat death? And those poor wretches in Security. How is it fair that they died? And Roger—where is he? Is he even _alive_?" She was really heaving now.

McCoy passed a box of tissues to her. "Go to your quarters, Lieutenant. Do not leave it and do not come into contact with anyone here. I'm putting you, Spock, Sulu, O'Reilly—the whole lot of you acting strange—in quarantine under medical order."

* * *

A week later, Spock entered Sick Bay.

"What can I do for you Mr. Spock?" Christine asked politely. She wasn't sure how to react after that very awkward situation.

Spock walked over to where she was sitting and stood before her, hands clasped behind his back. "I came to ask if we could meet for coffee and…talk about what happened last week."

"Um…"

"Christine," Spock said, "We have to talk. I know, it was a virus but it brought things to the surface that I would have preferred to keep to myself. I know you must be confused. It is only logical that I explain—"

"You don't have to explain anything, Mr. Spock."

"I wish it. I am requesting that you meet me at 1500 or do I have to make this an official debriefing to put on the record?"

"OK, see you in the Officer's Lounge at 1500."

* * *

Spock was seated at the far end of the lounge where it was more private, waiting for her even though she was a little early. For a First Officer with a million responsibilities, he certainly was a master of time management. Christine wondered how many minutes he allotted for "coffee."

She could use a beer herself.

Spock was drinking tea and eating cucumber and carrot sandwiches. He stood as she approached and pulled out a chair for her.

"Please don't tell me this is a date," Christine tried to joke.

"Then it is not," Spock answered. "Just two officers sorting things out. What will you have to drink, and would you like some sandwiches? I can order more."

"Wait, this isn't coffee, it's high tea!"

"Perhaps. I felt that I needed what I have heard Miss Uhura call 'comfort food.' "

Christine couldn't help smiling. She was actually feeling much more at ease. Who knew a Vulcan could use humour so well? Starfleet should really think about raiding the planet for Vulcans to put in management positions.

"If you don't mind, I'm off duty for the next 36 so I'll have a Mars Light."

Spock walked to the bar, ordered her beer, and brought it back to the table along with some crisps. "I took the liberty," he explained. "I also did not want to eat alone."

Christine thanked him and took a deep sip. "So. We need to talk, to 'sort things out.' "

"Yes. What happened in Sick Bay was…unusual for both of us. I for one, do not normally grab at female officers. First, I wish to apologize if I hurt you."

"I wasn't hurt. Startled, yes, but hurt, no."

"And what I said to you."

"Ah. Yes, it was confusing, sort of."

"I am sure it was. Christine, I enjoy your company, very much. More than I should. And I say that because as much as I wish we could explore our relationship, I must hold back."

"You do know I am engaged."

"As am I."

That wasn't something she'd heard before. "I wasn't aware of that, sir."

"I am…intended for another, on Vulcan."

"Oh."

"Please understand that what I speak of must remain confidential. My people do not normally talk of this." He took a sip of tea. It was cold. The sandwiches lay untouched. "I was bonded as a child to her. It used to be a common practice on Vulcan to do this, to bond children as future mates."

"Why?"

"Because it is dangerous for adult Vulcan males to be without a mate. There is a time when males from my planet go through a kind of…highly emotional state in which they must be attended to by their mates. If they are left alone, they will likely die. My mate was chosen and bonded with me many years ago."

"Is this the burning you talked about?"

"Yes. When the time comes, it feels like a deep burn inside the soul."

"And that can only be relieved by…making love. Mating, as you put it."

"Yes."

"So, you are engaged."

"No exactly. It's more than engaged, but less than married."

"And you're saying you have no choice in the matter."

"That is accurate. But I wish it were not so." He licked his lips. "I often think about what it would be like to be bonded with you."

"Spock…are you saying you love me?"

"I am not sure. I know that I wish I were free to explore that. But you _are_ engaged and you _do_ love another. It is not logical for me to even think this way and I have tried to _stop_ these thoughts. I would not tell you any of this except I…already did last week."

"Spock, if it helps, it's normal, at least for humans, to fantasize about others even when they're in a happy relationship."

"Are you saying you have thought of me as a potential mate?"

"Since last week, yes, I have to say I've wondered...a little. But that doesn't mean I've stopped loving Roger. But it's hard, not knowing if he's alive or dead."

"Would that make a difference?"

"In time, yes, I think it probably would. People who lose a romantic partner, a mate, often do find new partners because they want to. They know what it's like to be happy with another person and that it's good."

"I cannot say I am in a happy relationship. It is what it is. But I find I wish I had more than what I have. And now I know you have thought of me, I wish so even more."

Christine took a long sip of her beer. This conversation was getting too intense. "Spock, lots of women on this ship and a few men, I'm sure, think about you. You're smart, you're kind—and you're pretty easy on the eyes."

"I thank you. You are also easy on the eyes." He let his lips curve up and his eyes crinkle a bit.

"And you are also…stuck in a loveless engagement?"

He stared down for a few moments. "I had not thought of it in this way but yes, I supposed I am. I have had little contact with her since I left Vulcan. If the bond with my ko-kugalsu was strong, I would not even think in this manner." He looked back up at her. "Normally, Vulcans form a close attachment with their mates over the years. By the time we…mate…make love, they do indeed feel love. But I do not think this will happen for me."

"Your parents…they obviously weren't bonded as children."

"Correct, yet theirs is a most satisfying marriage. I am certain that I can love one to whom I bond by choice. Indeed, many teenage and adult Vulcans today select mates with whom they are compatible."

"You can't break it off with her?"

"I do not believe so. She can divorce me but she would need a reason. As far as I know there is none. And if she were to break it off, it would mean…a lot of trouble. It just is not done."

McCoy had told her about his home on Vulcan, that Spock's family were more or less Vulcan royalty and Spock was even referred to as a prince in some regions. It made sense. His father was a senior diplomat within the Federation and the acknowledged leader of Vulcan. She didn't know much about his mother, except that she was Human and some kind of linguistics genius.

Which explained a lot. Spock probably would have been bonded with any girl from any acceptable family. Poor guy. He deserved better. And probably, so did this girl. If it was normal for bonded children to grow close, she'd also missed out. Why didn't they remain in contact, she wondered.

She reached out and closed both her hands over one of his. "I'm sorry, Spock. I am so, so sorry." She released his hand, rose from her chair, and left the room. This was one situation she knew was way over her head.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: The Time Approaches**

McCoy's fears were proving to be true.

Ever since that stupid virus hit the crew, everyone had been on edge, and not just those who were infected. Take Janice, that sweet young woman who served as the Captain's yeoman. She'd been jumpy ever since shooting at—and narrowly missing—Uhura, who had also refuge in the Captain's office from out-of-control male crew.

Uhura was still pissed off about the whole thing with Sulu, who was embarrassed about that ridiculous display of bravado on the bridge-although McCoy suspected he wasn't too embarrassed by vids of his well-defined chest making the rounds among female crew and more than few of the men.

The science staff, who were always a hard read, were just _sad_. They missed Joe terribly. McCoy was a little hard-pressed to understand this once the initial shock wore off: Joe hardly talked to anyone but then, that was kind of normal for maybe half the science crew.

Christine was still upset that they were taken off-course from Exo III; at least, that what he _thought_ she was upset. Since the virus, she and Spock were barely speaking which was definitely not normal. He questioned both of them privately about the encounter he'd interrupted. Both swore nothing was forced, but the two acted like they'd just met when they were forced to interact.

And Spock…Spock, he was pretty sure, was headed toward his Time, that unspoken event Vulcan men, and some women, went through to ensure the species kept on going.

McCoy knew about the Time from a couple of summers he spent at the Vulcan Science Academy's medical school arm. Even there, it was discussed in detached clinical language. Most of the information stressed the danger to the party undergoing Ponn Farr. Not much was said about the other party but the fact that there were specialists who treated "post-Ponn Farr" injuries spoke volumes. So did the occasional obituaries that listed "natural causes," unusual for a species that preferred more exacting terms. Most of the deceased were female.

Spock had once confided to him that he'd hoped his mixed heritage would shield him from Ponn Farr, or at least from the worst of it. His father, Sarek, who hosted him during his stays on Vulcan, had also confided to him that he and Spock's mother, Amanda, hoped for the same. They had requested ("begged", Amanda told him) the geneticists who'd assisted them with her conception and pregnancy to factor out that particular gene. Turned out that it was too deeply embedded in the genetic algorithms that would give him Vulcan physiology.

Spock also wondered if he could reproduce. He probably could, McCoy had answered, since the genomes among Vulcans and Humans weren't all that different compared to other biped species. He'd started to offer to analyze Spock's sperm but the reaction—an instant, glowing green face—left him mumbling an apology instead.

One thing he did know—that damned virus jump-started Spock's Time. It lifted his composure and lip-locked him with his attractive nurse/scientist on whom he'd suspected Spock had harbored a crush. He didn't think Christine reciprocated but who knows? Part of her, he'd hoped, was coming to the conclusion that her fiancé was lost for good. But that didn't mean he wanted his sensitive Vulcan buddy—who he understood was still considered an adolescent in his society-to be her recovery boyfriend.

* * *

"Hold the lift, Mr. Spock," Kirk said as he left his station for a break.

The Captain was following him. He was sure of it. Why couldn't he leave him alone? This man barely knew him. "Hold," he sighed.

Kirk entered the lift. "Resume," he commanded and turned to fix his eyes on his First Officer. He was concerned, very concerned, about the Vulcan.

Something in that virus fucked him up big time. He'd gone from being a pleasant enough, if expressionless, character to a tight-lipped brooder. Kirk had mentioned this in passing to Lt. Rosen, the second-in-command on the science crew.

"Sir, everyone in Science is still recovering from Joe's death," Rosen told him. "My feeling is that Commander Spock feels responsible for Joe. Vulcans tend to be what we'd call paternalistic although it's actually a matrilineal society. What some people see as a superiority complex is more of a feeling that their role is protective."

Useful information, yes, but he wasn't satisfied this was the whole story.

"Mr. Spock, I understand you play chess," he said, letting his expression lighten a bit.

Spock visibly relaxed. "I do, sir."

"Care to match wits later this evening?"

No, he didn't. But he also didn't want to give his Captain more reason to stalk him. "Certainly Captain. When and where?"

"My quarters, let's say 1900?"

 _Shit,_ he thought. "Certainly, Captain."

* * *

After letting Spock out at the officers' quarters deck, Kirk headed toward Sickbay for a chat with McCoy.

"How are you feeling, Doctor?" he asked as he entered the med lab.

A couple of days earlier, the ship lost some of its gravity during a routine Engineering drill. Most of the crew enjoyed lighter, bouncier steps, but it was the women and some of the smaller men like McCoy who'd felt it most. Kirk himself had a few private laughs as he bounced up and down the corridors with Yeoman Rand.

McCoy, it seems, was enjoying this, too. Chapel tried to warn him that the gravity might come back online with little warning. Unfortunately, she was right. Gravity was restored just as McCoy was completing an aerial tumble—something he hadn't done since his undergraduate days for god's sake—when it returned to normal. He landed hard on his back.

"My old bones weren't meant for full gravity," he'd groaned to Chapel. Of course, she told the story to Uhura, who repeated it to Scotty and Kirk.

"The old bones are fine, it's just my pride that's hurt," he answered the Captain. He shook his head. "Should've listened to Chapel. What can I do for you, Captain?"

"I need to speak with you. In private."

McCoy nodded. "My office OK?" Kirk nodded back and the two headed out of the lab to the SickBay office suite.

"What's on your mind, Captain?" McCoy asked once they were inside and seated.

"Vulcans," Kirk replied. "The kind that suddenly turn into Heathcliff."

McCoy nodded.

"I need to know if my First Officer is fit for duty, Doctor," Kirk stated. "I can't risk the safety of this ship. I'm too new to know him well enough to understand if this is a temporary thing he'll shake off or if it's a new problem. What can you tell me?"

McCoy sighed.

"Doctor McCoy," Kirk said sternly, "Physician-patient privacy does not apply on a starship when it comes to fitness for duty."

"I know. It's just that…you would have to order him for a full exam."

"Can't you do that?"

"I tried, Captain. He refused."

"He _refused_?"

"His exact words were 'If you do not cease prying into my private life, Doctor, I shall break your neck.'"

"And this didn't concern you?"

"Of course it did."

"Why didn't tell me this?"

"I was going to, I swear I was. What I wanted to do first was a little surreptitious but necessary. I was analyzing his saliva when you came in.

"We were in the mess earlier. I was trying to get Spock to eat something. He agreed to have that soup he likes when I asked him to stop by for a post-virus exam. That's when he said he'd break my neck. Then he threw down his spoon and marched out of there. So I took his spoon and brought it to the lab here to analyze his saliva and see if anything showed up."

"Ingenious, Doctor. What did you learn?"

"Well, his hormonal levels—particularly the Vulcan equivalent of testosterone and cortisol—are high, very high."

"High as in, is he about to have a heart attack? Because dealing with him for much longer may give _me_ one!"

"I think it would be beneficial if we could make a stop to Vulcan. We're getting closer to it…perhaps the Vulcan healers can help him. I don't think I can."

The Captain sat back and thought about this. "I'm seeing him tonight for a chess game, in my quarters. Am I safe to be alone with him?"

McCoy blinked. There was no way Spock should be alone with another male he didn't know very well. Anything could set him off these days. "If I may suggest, sir, invite Chekhov, too. Not only does he love chess—he and Spock sometimes play—but it won't hurt to have the head of security nearby when you're dealing with a hormonal Vulcan."

Kirk almost laughed. "Good idea, 'Bones.'"

* * *

"Meester Spock!"

Spock turned to see Chekhov walking toward him. "Mr. Chekhov."

"Meester Spock, we haven't played chess in ages. When can we have a match?"

"Interesting that you bring this up, Mr. Chekhov. The Captain invited me for a match tonight. Perhaps you would prefer to take my place?"

"Meester Spock! He's expecting you! But—invite me along and I'll play the weener."

Spock blinked, trying to gather his thoughts.

"I've never seen a Captain's quarters, you know," Chekhov smiled at him. "We'll tell heem I'm insatiably curious, no?"

"Um…very well, Ensign." He turned and continued toward the lab where he hoped to find some relief in focusing on samples from an asteroid they'd passed through earlier in the week.

Chekhov watched him leave. _Um_? He'd never heard the First Officer utter anything like that before.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7, In a Fever**

It was late and the trio had played several matches. Finally, just before 2300, Kirk yawned and announced he's had enough.

"Long day tomorrow, gentlemen. But thank you for the competition."

"Thank _you_ , Captain," Chekhov said, who had managed to keep up a steady current of cheerfulness and commentary at just the right times. He knew when to keep quiet during a match, and what to say after one was finished. He was happy to fetch drinks and snacks, and played a pretty good game, too.

Kirk made a mental note to thank him privately.

Chekhov's presence let him observe Spock less obviously than if they'd been alone. Spock was even a bit more relaxed with the Ensign's presence; it turned out Chekhov had been his student at the Academy, a "most satisfactory one" he mentioned during the evening. That was a little more emotional than normal, but in a good way. Perhaps he just needed opportunity to relax, post-virus.

The two men left together and Kirk moved to clear the table and wipe it down. It was too late to bother Rand for this kind of work and he didn't like the idea of going to sleep with food and drink still out. It was a holdover from his childhood on a farm, where open food invited in raccoons, possums and one time, a bear.

Something caught his eye. It was a padd Spock had brought with him that included vids of famous matches he explained he liked to study. Kirk picked it up. He could give it to Spock tomorrow, he knew, but he could also bring it to Spock's quarters. He was only down the hall.

He commed Spock. _You left your padd; I'll drop it off._

Spock stared at the screen. _Why won't he leave me be?_

His door buzzed. "Enter," he said and Kirk stepped in. "Your padd, Mr. Spock." He held it out.

Spock reached for it. "Thank you Captain. It was kind but unnecessary. I would have retrieved it tomorrow."

"Jim. You can call me Jim when we're off-duty." Kirk swallowed. "Spock, may I sit down?"

Spock nodded. _Like I have a choice?_ He motioned Kirk to an armchair on the other side of his desk and sat in his own chair.

"Spock, I don't know you well but I do know that something isn't right, and hasn't been right, since that virus outbreak."

Spock said nothing, just stared down at his desk.

"I understand Dr. McCoy wanted to check up on you. You know, it's his job to make sure that the personnel on this ship, particularly senior personnel, are healthy and fit. For duty."

Spock's head snapped up. "Has Dr. McCoy said I am not fit for duty?"

"No, he told me that you refused to see him. He can't come to that conclusion without examining you."

"What else did he tell you?"

"Only that he's concerned about your health…physical and mental. You've lost a valued member of your staff. You were infected by a serious virus that affected your behaviour. You were crying, Spock. I know that's highly unusual for a Vulcan."

Spock glowered inwardly. After running out of Sick Bay that day, Kirk had found him moping in one of the conference rooms. He tearfully told Kirk about how he'd never told his mother how much he loved her. Then he infected Kirk—he wasn't sure how but he was pretty sure that Kirk had _slapped_ him; the virus seemed to spread through touch.

"Do you remember what happened in that room, Spock? We were talking about _love_ , you and I. I told you you were better off without it, that I _envied_ you. You told me humans need love and you understood why."

"Did you hit me?"

"Yes, I did. Twice. Don't your remember? You hit back and sent me flying across the room with hardly any effort!"

"I apologize…sir."

"Spock, you've already apologized and I've apologized for hitting you. Enough with the apologies. You haven't been the same since. Something is going on. McCoy wants to take you to Vulcan. Would you like that? He says the healers there can help you."

"No! I do not wish to go to Vulcan!" Spock practically shouted.

Jim regarded him for a moment. "We won't force you to do anything. But unless you tell us what's going on and how we can help you, you're not going to get better. McCoy doesn't think he can help you, although he hasn't even examined you. You both know something I don't. Either you tell me, or McCoy will. Either way, I am ordering you to go to Sick Bay tomorrow before you report for shift."

He rose to leave, and stopped. He turned around and sat on the edge of the desk. He leaned over toward Spock. "Spock, we want to help you. I want to help you. But you have to tell me what's going on or I'll have to go by the book."

Spock briefly lifted his eyes. "It is a matter of…biology."

"Biology," Kirk echoed. "As in Vulcan biology?"

"Yes. Have you never wondered how Vulcans choose their partners, without emotion to guide them?"

"Well…I always assumed it was done logically," Kirk answered, somewhat lamely.

"It is not logical. There is no logic. But we do have partners, mates. Mine was given to me at a very young age. We were seven.

"We were supposed to grow close but that never happened. She appeared…reticent. I know she was mocked for her association with me. They said she loved an…ape-man."

"So much for Infinite Diversity."

"Yes. It is one of many ways that Vulcans can be far from logical. The other is when our bodies tell us it is time to reproduce, to fully unite with our partners. If we do not, we will die."

"You will _die_?"

"On Earth, there is the example of salmon returning to spawn where they themselves were hatched. Empire penguins take a rigorous journey to return to their own birthing place. It is not dissimilar with Vulcans. Our logic is taken over by a driving need to reproduce every seven years, even if there have been children during the interim period. The drive ensures our kind will continue.

"But in order to live, we must…mate. Otherwise the madness will kill us."

Kirk took a few moments to take this in. "I see. Is this why McCoy suggested getting you to Vulcan? To reach a partner you don't want to see? But can she help you?"

"Yes."

"But you don't want to see her and you don't want her help."

"That is correct."

"Is there someone, or something, that can be done aside from this woman?"

"There are priestesses who attend to males in my condition…but I do not want one. The one I want is promised to another and I cannot force her. I _will not_ force her."

"Someone on this ship?" Kirk was a little incredulous. He'd once wondered about Spock and Uhura but after several weeks of observation, it was obvious that Uhura was a freelancer where love was concerned. Spock appeared content with his relatively small circle of friends and larger circle of admiring acquaintances.

Spock didn't reply, just hung his head.

Kirk rubbed a hand over his forehead. "OK, look, go to McCoy and get a checkup. That's an order. Maybe what's bothering you is made worse by traces of the virus. I'd also like him to consult with healers on Vulcan. Because as of now, I don't have full confidence that you're fit for duty. So as of now, Mr. Spock, I am ordering you to take 10 days of leave and do whatever you can to restore your equilibrium, to get back to normal…within reasonable boundaries, of course."

"Of course."

"Good night Spock."

"Good night, Captain."

He wouldn't' call him Jim.

* * *

Spock was more than a little stunned. He wasn't exactly _relieved_ of duty but close to it. People would talk. Talk tended to get back to Sarek, with whom he'd had an uneasy relationship.

Sarek had been, to put it mildly, furious when Spock chose Starfleet. He'd understood his reasons for rejecting the Vulcan Science Academy but Starfleet was beyond his understanding. As a diplomat, Sarek mistrusted most military, particularly those dominated by illogical Humans.

If ever there was a Vulcan who understood Humans, it was Sarek. He'd married one and whilst he sometimes commented that it had been the logical thing to do in his capacity as Ambassador to Earth, there was no doubt that Amanda captivated him. Some Humans, Sarek once told Spock, could read others very well, including other species. They could influence them to act illogically. He'd certainly seen his mother get his father to act in very un-Vulcan like ways. He smiled at her. He kissed her in the Human style. He sometimes spun her around in an impromptu Human-style dance.

Sarek's normally expressionless eyes lit up whenever Amanda came into his vision. She enchanted him.

And then Sarek would turn around and demand Spock be the perfect Vulcan.

Sarek believed Starfleet was dangerous because it was controlled by Humans. Choosing it over the Vulcan Defense Forces was dangerous and illogical. Spock recognized it also put Sarek in a very difficult situation. Plenty of conservative factions on Vulcan distrusted him. Now they could point to his illogical half-Human Starfleet officer son as further evidence of his traitorous actions.

The last thing Spock wanted was Sarek hearing that he was resisting going to T'Pring to fulfill his destiny.

* * *

Christine was feeling guilty. It had been three—no, four—days since she'd seen Spock. Now he was taking time off—something she knew he'd only do when ordered. She should check in on how he was. He clearly looked unwell the last time she'd seen him.

She called up his dining records on the computer and was stunned to see he hadn't eaten anything in three days.

She commed him. _Are you all right? I haven't seen you and now I know you aren't eating_.

A few minutes later, her padd pinged. _I am not myself_.

 _Will you meet me in the mess?_

 _No. I prefer if you would bring me plomeek soup_.

 _I'd rather meet in the mess._

 _I do not want people to see me like this._

Well, at least he was willing to let her seem him "like this."

 _Fine. I'm off in 45 minutes and I'll bring your soup. And you'd better eat it._

She clicked off the comm program before he could answer.

* * *

She felt rather silly, walking down the senior officers' corridor with a tray like she was Room Service. _Oh great—there's Len and the Captain_. Now she felt even sillier.

"Plomeek soup, Nurse?" Len started in.

Before he could interfere, Christine pressed the buzzer to Spock's quarters. It immediately opened.

Spock looked at her coldly. "What is this?"

"It's what you asked me to bring you—"

"It is not appropriate for a woman to serve a man who isn't hers!" Spock shouted and knocked the tray out of her hands. Purple soup splattered against the wall.

"Spock!" Kirk was horrified. "What—why-?"

"Captain I request two months' leave."

"What?"

"I said, I am requesting two months' leave."

"Two _months_? Spock, that's a lot of time—"

"I have more than enough time saved up."

"I—"

"Captain, all I require is a Yes. Or. A. No. What is it?"

"No—well let me see what I can do—"

"So your answer is no. I see now." He looked at Christine. "Please accept my apologies, Nurse. As you can see, I am not myself." He slumped against the wall.

Kirk made a move toward him but McCoy brushed him off. He grabbed Spock's arms. "Spock! Can you tell me what's wrong? Is it…you know…"

Spock struggled to stand up straight. "I do not wish to discuss it, Doctor. Please, just help me back into my quarters. I am safer there."

McCoy nodded to Christine, who moved back toward Spock. Together, they helped him inside and steered him toward his bed. He promptly fell asleep.

Christine looked at McCoy. "What now?"

McCoy shook his head. "Chris, I can't tell you everything. I wish I could. But I can tell you that because I am a man, I am not safe here. I'm not 100% sure you are, either, but I don't think Spock would hurt you. It's a Vulcan thing going on…a biological thing…"

And then it clicked.

"Biological. As in, reproductive biology?"

McCoy nodded.

"And he doesn't want to go back to his bonded mate or whatever she is," Christine said slowly.

"How do _you_ know about this?"

"He told me…after the virus, we talked and he told me."

"What are you gonna do?"

"I'm going to stay here with him. And when he wakes up, I'm going to tell him he must go to Vulcan. If for no other reason, then for…me."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8, Calm Before the Storm**

Chapel sat at Spock's desk, trying to stay awake as she gazed across the room at the sleeping Vulcan.

Spock's quarters were quite warm, even for someone dressed in those stupid, skimpy uniforms they gave to female staff. It was also dark; Spock's quarters featured red and brown wall hangings, similar, she supposed, to Vulcan's colors. A set of deadly-looking axes and other Medieval-like weapons hung on the wall dangerously (she felt) close to his bed. Where he now lay in a deep sleep, the kind she remembered as a teenager.

Which, she concluded, might be where Spock was in his mental development—an adolescent. She'd read up on Vulcan physiology and biology and was interested to learn that Vulcans often lived to 200. McCoy had hinted that Spock was still "just a kid" in his culture, although she wasn't sure if he was joking about Vulcans' long lifespan or actually commenting on Spock's maturity. Certainly, he was the essence of a Starfleet Commander and First Officer: dependable, steady, and culturally inclined to keep his emotions in check. Except, of course, when infected by an outside force like that damned virus.

She tried to stay awake but kept nodding off. Her feet were hot, so she took off her boots, hoping the slight cooling would keep her awake. It didn't.

"Christine," she heard. She'd fallen asleep at his desk. She opened her eyes and lifted her head. Spock was blinking sleepily at her. "Will you come to me?"

Later, she knew she wasn't really thinking when she walked across the room and lay down on his bed next to him. He curled his body around her and murmured something she couldn't understand as she drifted off back to sleep.

* * *

She wasn't sure how many hours had passed when she awoke to music, strings. She turned her head and saw Spock seated in an armchair, softly strumming his lyre. He looked at her with bright eyes.

"I apologize if I woke you," he started to say.

"Water!" she gasped.

"Ah, yes, it is warmer than in most humans' quarters." He set down his lyre and fetched a glass of water for her, even adding ice. He sat on the edge of the bed and handed it to her, watching as she gratefully gulped it down.

"Do you require more?" She nodded.

After she downed a second glass, she cleared her throat. "I had a most unusual dream, Spock. You were trying to tell me something but I could not hear you. Or perhaps I couldn't understand you."

"It was not a dream, Christine," he said softly. "I was trying to tell you something but you fell asleep before I could finish. And it is entirely possible that I was speaking to you in my own language. I have not been…myself lately."

His intercom chimed. He pressed a button on the side table next to his bed. "Spock here."

"Spock, it's McCoy, Spock," the doctor's voice came over. "How are you, uh, feeling?"

"I am well."

"Is Chapel still there?"

"Yes." He looked back at her.

"Chris? Can you hear me?"

"Yeah, Len, I can. Everyone's ok here."

"Doctor…Leonard, are we going to Vulcan?"

Chapel held her breath.

"Yes, Spock, we are. You need help."

"Acknowledged." He turned off the intercom and looked at Christine. "I do not wish to go there."

She sat up and smoothed her hair. "But you must, to survive. What you should do, what you must do, is whatever it takes to keep to stay alive. Even if it means being with her."

"I do not want that."

"It's only for a short time. You can do what you must and return to the ship and carry on with your life as you please. Do you see another choice?"

"Not much of one."

"But you seem…calmer."

"I _feel_ calmer. The burning is not as strong. Christine," he hesitated, "I must ask you if we-"

"We didn't. We _literally_ napped together, Spock."

He looked relieved. "I would not wish to put you in a situation where you would be hurt. Or offended by my actions."

"Was that what you were trying to tell me?"

"I was trying to explain what was going on. As soon as you were next to me, our bodies touching, I felt a sense of peace. Like you were a balm. I did not want you to leave me. You helped me regain control of my emotions."

"If you don't mind my saying, you sound very emotional right now."

"Yes, but I feel completely in _control_ of them, which I must say are quite pleasant right now. I would not throw soup, for example. I would, however, like to have some to eat right now, and perhaps a stir-fry."

She grinned at him. "Could we meet in the mess in an hour? I'd like to go back to my quarters to shower and change, and check in with Len real fast."

"I will be there."

She got up and smoothed out her skirt and hair some more before heading to his door.

"Christine?" She turned around.

"Thank you. Thank you for staying with me."

* * *

She commed Len right away from her quarters and filled him in.

"So he's _fine_? After that little performance earlier?"

"I'm telling you, he's fine. I'm fine. _Tutti bene_."

"Hmm. I hope you aren't telling me this to preserve Spock's Victorian image."

She laughed. "And what of mine?"

He snickered back at her. "Compared to Spock, you're a PhD in matters of the heart. Hell, even _I_ am!"

* * *

Christine and Spock were having a late meal in the mess, their only options being programmed food that, luckily, included plomeek soup for Spock and stir-fry vegetables and potatoes for both.

"That's your plan…just tell her it's over?"

"It is. Unless you have identified another way?"

"Spock…please, I hope all of this isn't because of me."

He sighed, a very un-Spock like sound. "It is in part. When the virus freed my mind, I realized that I wanted more than an arranged bondmate. I want something more, from someone I can talk to, who I admire, who I find attractive in ways other than physical.

"Do not misunderstand me, Christine. I have found you physically attractive since you came on this ship. And since then I have discovered more about you that make me want you more than in a sexual sense. I want to be with you. Not with her.

"And yet, I understand you have given your heart to another. I will await to see what happens when we find him."

"When we find him," she said slowly.

"Yes, when. Because you believe it will be so."

"Spock, I have to tell you…I am having doubts."

"That would be logical given the facts."

"And this makes it so hard for me to see you throwing away a perfectly fine woman—"

"Who is not the one for me. Christine, even if you should reunite with Dr. Korby, I will accept that. I will be…disappointed but I will accept it. I will get over it, as Dr. McCoy says.

"Long ago, my people fought for their mates. There is even an archaic tradition at marriage ceremonies in which the female may call upon someone to challenge her mate on her behalf, usually a male she prefers. The tradition calls for a fight to the death."

"Oh my god. They really do that? At the wedding?"

"It is rare. More often, the female simply does not show up and the male finds another to help him through the pon farr."

She decided not to ask who that might be. "Do males ever do what you will, ask to dissolve the bond?"

"No."

"Never?"

"Never. If a male is truly in pon farr at the time of the wedding, he is in no shape to challenge. But most couples marry very early in the process, when symptoms first appear, to avoid the male going too far into it and prevent any harm to the female. So this situation has not arisen in over a century. Most couples are already quite close by the time of the wedding…not always in how human couples might be, but it is not unusual."

"Your parents did a real disservice bonding you like that."

"It was my father's doing. He thought he was protecting me. He expected we would grow close. But when her family moved away, our contact was limited."

"What will happen when you tell her you simply refuse to marry?"

"That I do not know. It could become quite a scandal. It will no doubt be blamed on the half-breed's wild emotions."


	9. Chapter 9

**9\. Most Illogical**

"Kirk to Spock."

"Spock here."

"Mr. Spock, we're approaching Vulcan airspace. I thought you might want to be on the Bridge for this."

"Acknowledged." He got up from his desk, where he had gazed for some time at a photo of a young girl, perhaps eight years old, with a hairstyle he recalled his mother calling "totally inappropriate for a child."

T'Pring.

He flipped through other images of her, the last one being her freshman photo taken just before she matriculated at the University of Mount Selaya.

He last saw her in person 8.352 days before he departed Vulcan for Starfleet. At the time, they both had expected he would attend the Vulcan Science Academy for graduate study—he'd earned an undergraduate degree in two years at ShiKahr University—while she completed her studies.

Things did not go as planned. His father was angry, his mother distressed that his father was angry, and T'Pring was, frankly, pissed off that he made such a momentous decision without consulting her first. They spoke via comm after he arrived on Terra, but she'd been distant. This did not improve over the years during their infrequent contacts.

She avoided him when he finally returned to Vulcan after his graduation from Starfleet and reconciliation with his father. By then, she was doing postgraduate work and not inclined to leave school. As usual, they spoke by comm but didn't actually talk.

Things would improve when he reached his Time, his father assured him, but he wasn't so sure of this.

He rose, straightened his tunic, and left his quarters to go to the Bridge.

* * *

McCoy was waiting at the lift. "Spock," he greeted him with a nod. Spock nodded back.

McCoy cleared his throat. "I can see you are…well…but are you prepared, for, you know, the, um, joining?

"I do not intend to do any such thing, Doctor."

McCoy's eyes widened. The lift arrived and they entered it. Spock pressed the button for the Bridge. McCoy promptly halted the lift.

"What do you mean? Are you out of your Vulcan mind? Spock, if you don't…join with T'Pring, you'll die!"

"I will not." He released the hold button and the lift continued its journey.

"Spock!"

"Yes, Doctor!"

"Spock! Are you willing to die because you don't like her?"

"I will not die," Spock replied as he stepped out of the lift and to the Bridge.

"Whaddaya mean you're not gonna die!"

Everyone on the Bridge spun around toward the lift to stare at McCoy.

Kirk cleared his throat. "Glad to see you both alive and well."

"I have a plan," Spock told McCoy as he passed a wide-eyed Uhura on his way to the Science Station, McCoy close behind.

"What kind of green-blooded scheme could you possibly come up with?" McCoy practically shouted.

"Why is he always on the breedge?" Chekhov muttered to Sulu. Sulu grinned and started to answer but the doctor kept on raving.

"Spock, if you don't have sex you'll die!"

Sulu's mouth was open but he was unable to make a sound. Chekhov clapped a hand over his own mouth, trying to stifle a laugh.

Uhura's eyes grew even wider. Kirk cleared his throat a couple of times, wondering if he should say anything.

"Ah, he'll get used to it like the rest of us," Scotty muttered, mostly to himself.

Thankfully, the sound of a hail came through. "Vulcan Air Command is hailing us, Captain," Uhura announced.

"On screen," Kirk said quickly.

A young lieutenant in a Vulcan Space Fleet uniform appeared. "Greetings, Enterprise, you are now in Vulcan airspace. I presume Captain Kirk is commanding?"

"Affirmative," Kirk replied.

"How soon do you estimate before you reach docking?"

"Approximately one standard hour," Kirk answered.

The Vulcan nodded. "We will send your docking coordinates. This will be treated as a high priority per the Vulcan High Command."

Kirk nodded. "Acknowledged."

The young Vulcan sat up a little straighter. "Captain, is Commander Spock present?"

Spock swung his chair around and stepped forward in front of the view screen. "Spock here."

The lieutenant stood and gave the ta'al salute. "It is an honor, T'sai," she said.

Spock returned the salute. "Dif-tor heh smusa," he answered. "Live long and prosper, Lieutenant."

The young officer turned a subtle shade of green before sitting down again. "Commander, we have a message patched to you."

"Spock, would you like to take this in my office?" Kirk asked.

"There is no need. Proceed, Lieutenant."

The screen changed, and the image of an elegant young Vulcan female appeared.

"She's beautiful," Uhura breathed. "Who is she, Mr. Spock?"

"That, Lieutenant, is my wife, T'Pring."

Chekhov almost fell off his chair. "That's hees _vife_?" he sputtered to Sulu, who was engrossed in the view screen, almost enchanted.

 _Whoa_ , Uhura thought. _Wait'll Chris hears about this!_ She shook her head. _That dog, sniffing around her like he does._

"Spock."

"T'Pring."

"Spock, we have to talk."

"Uh-oh," Sulu muttered to Chekhov. "That's never a good sign."

"Yes, T'Pring, there is much to speak of. Shall we meet at the assigned place?"

T'Pring looked off screen for a moment. "I would prefer another venue if possible."

Spock took a deep breath. "I do not know if that is possible. T'Pau will be in attendance."

"T'Pau?" McCoy almost yelled.

Kirk sucked in his breath. He knew Spock's family was important but he wasn't aware of just how important. He'd have to dig a little deeper into his First Officer's profile. T'Pau was a legend on Vulcan, not to mention the only person to refuse a seat on the Federation Council. "Vulcan brings enough drama," she was reputed to have explained in turning down the seat.

"That sounded like McCoy," T'Pring said.

Spock sighed. "Yes. He is here."

"Very well—we meet at the assigned place," T'Pring said and the screen went blank.

Everyone on the Bridge exhaled.

"Mr. Spock," Uhura started to say, "I had no idea you were married! When—"

"Perhaps 'married' is not precise, Lieutenant," Spock said. "Our status is more than an engagement, but less of a marriage."

"So…is this stopover for your _wedding_?"

"I hope to avoid that," Spock answered. "Captain, Doctor, I would be honored if you two would accompany me to my….wedding place."

"Of course," McCoy said, "but I don't understand…I thought it's sex or you-?"

"I am honored, sir," Kirk interrupted. "After you, Doctor," he said pushing McCoy into the lift.

"We have to talk," Sulu said slowly. "Oh, this will not end well for Spock."

"Story of my life," Scotty said sympathetically.

Uhura shook her head. "Mr. Spock is married! I would never have guessed in a million years."

* * *

Christine stood nervously inside the transport room. Spock had asked her to accompany him to Vulcan's surface. She agreed, and looked up on the weather for ShiKahr. Good call—the forecast looked to go into the low to mid 40sC.

So she dressed for the weather: loose white slacks and a long-sleeved scrub top. She carried a small tote containing sunblock, lip balm, sunglasses, a broad-rimmed straw hat with _Welcome to the I.V. League_ stitched on it, and pain reliever in case she still became sunburned. And triox—lots of it as she fully expected the Captain and Len to accompany Spock to the planet.

The door swooshed open and the Captain entered. "Nurse Chapel!"

"Sir."

"I—didn't expect to see you here."

"I asked Miss Chapel to accompany me," Spock answered for her. "Her presence is essential."

"I see," Kirk said slowly. As far as he knew, they were both engaged to other people, Chris to a guy who was probably dead, Spock to a stunning woman he apparently didn't want.

Well, love could be funny.

"Let's get this over with," McCoy grumbled, stepping to the back of the transporter. The rest of the party joined him, and on Kirk's command, shimmered out of the room.

They re-energized into a hot, _very hot_ , room of sorts. Actually, it wasn't a room, Christine realized, it was a shaded area. And if this was the shade, she wasn't eager to get in the sun. She pulled out her sunglasses. Kirk turned to her, squinting. She dug back into her bag and offered him another pair, which he gratefully accepted.

McCoy pulled out a pair of his own sunglasses from his med kit. He knew Vulcan well enough.

"Whew, now I know what they mean when they say 'hot as Vulcan,'" Kirk commented.

Spock stood still, then turned to leave the room. The others followed him out into intense light and heat. Christine pulled on her hat and applied sunblock to her hands and neck. She offered some to the Captain, who shrugged. _Well, he'll feel this later_ , she thought.

Spock turned to her and motioned for her to walk right behind him, in front of the Captain, which made her feel slightly uncomfortable. She was used to the Captain leading a landing party. But this wasn't really a landing party—it was an un-wedding party.

Spock stopped under a large overhanging rock. In front was a large, circular kind of ceremonial ground—oh my god, it was the wedding chapel. She really didn't want to be there.

"We will wait. It will be but a minute," Spock said to no one in particular.

He was right. Within a minute, a party of five or six persons appeared—a large man carrying a frightening-looking weapon similar to the one Spock had dangerously near his bed—followed by a petite, gorgeous woman and more men, dressed less threateningly.

Kirk and McCoy seemed to recognize her. She heard them suck in their breath. Spock stepped forward and saluted her with the ta'al.

"T'Pring."

"Spock."

"You said we need to talk. It is logical that we do before the other parties arrive."

"Yes. I will make this plain, Spock. I have neither wish nor intent to join with you."

"And you plan to challenge me?"

"Spock, what the hell are you doing?" McCoy hissed. "Isn't this what you want?"

"No. I do not wish to challenge," T'Pring answered.

"That is illogical. The only way to end the koon'ul* is through a challenge."

"I submit that is illogical. You do not desire me and I do not desire you."

"Yet it is our way."

"Spock!" McCoy hissed again.

"May I offer another option?" A male Vulcan stepped forward, and Kirk almost jumped out of his skin. "Bones, do you know who that is?"

"Who? Him? Yeah, that's Stonn. Greetings, Stonn." McCoy tried, and failed, to do the ta'al.

"Greetings McCoy. It has been a long time."

Kirk stepped forward and managed the ta'al. "I can't believe this—Stonn! I have been a…well, a fan of yours since _Murder on the Forge_."

"I am honored."

"And _The Dh'Reth** Conspiracy_? I couldn't put it down!

"You are kind to say that."

"Um, Stonn?" T'Pring said. "Spock and I have to sort out the koon'ul?

"Oh, right, Ashayam. My apologies."

"Did he call you Ashayam?" Spock said, with great irritation.

"He did…because I am. His ashayam, I mean."

"I do not understand."

"Spock, a moment," McCoy tugged Spock's sleeve. Spock allowed himself to be led back to the overhang, where Christine had hung back.

"Isn't she the one you want?"

Spock blinked. "Christine," he breathed. "It is agreeable to see you." Christine couldn't help but smile up at him, making him feel a bit like he was floating. He took her hand, kissed it, and held it to his cheek. "So cool, so…soothing," he whispered.

"OK, he's definitely not right in the head," McCoy muttered. He turned to see Kirk walking back to them.

"I can't believe I met _Stonn_! He's like, my favorite writer ever! Spock, Bones, neither of you mentioned knowing him!"

"He and I attended primary school together. His books are most…absorbing," Spock answered, still holding Christine's hand to his cheek. "I found _Sehlat Semetary_ to be quite unnerving. Even disturbing."

"And he and T'Pring want to marry. Spock, doesn't that seem to solve a big problem you've had—like not wanting to marry T'Pring?" McCoy said with as much patience as he could muster.

"But there must be a challenge. A fight to the death!" He drew Christine closer to him. She found herself wrapping her arms around him, the big, sweet, dopey, green-blooded fella.

She was starting to feel a little drunk. Was it the thinner air and stronger pull of gravity?

"What do you suggest, that Christine fight T'Pring?"

"That would be even less logical than Spock fighting Stonn." T'Pring answered as she and Stonn approached the group.

"I have no wish for violence," T'Pring continued. "It is illogical to adhere to a tradition such as kal'I'fee. I want Stonn, and Stonn wants me. You and—Christine, correct?—apparently want each other. You do not appear to be in a blood fever and ready to kill. I suspect you find killing most illogical.

"Spock, we can request T'Pau to sever what little bond remains between us. We _must_ do this."

"That is—agreeable," Spock replied, mostly into Christine's hair.

"Do you two require a room?" Stonn asked. "I have a timeshare not far from here…it is adequate for a couple."

"That will not be necessary," Spock said softly. "Christine helps me control the fever. The burn is pleasant, not violent. No, I do not wish to fight you, Stonn."

"Nor I you, although I admit I also wish to live…I do not believe I am a match for Starfleet training."

"So Spock...will you agree to ask T'Pau to end the bond?" T'Pring adked.

"I will, T'Pring, but this may be one tradition she will refuse to interfere with. We will need to put up a very persuasive argument for her to accept this, logical as it may be."

* * *

*betrothal

**monastery

AN: I have to think most Trek fans recognize, or can figure out, basic Vulcan. Translations are from VLD.


	10. Chapter 10, Challenging T'Pau

**10\. Challenging T'Pau**

As they spoke, the Vulcans among them heard the sound of bells and marching. Spock looked past T'Pring and Stonn.

"T'Pau is approaching," he said solemnly.

"Indeed," Stonn intoned.

Kirk looked at McCoy with questioning eyes. McCoy shrugged. "Vulcans. They have superior hearing, too. Must be the pointy ears."

"Spock?" came a muffled voice. "I can't breathe with you holding me like this."

Spock looked down and realized he was still clutching Christine to his chest. He relaxed his arms, but held her steady enough to prevent her from pitching backward as she gulped down the thin air. "Oh! I think I feel dizzy…"

McCoy dug in his bag. "Hang on to her Spock," he said. "She needs a triox injection. The air's thinner here and you're _suffocating_ her." Her step forward and japed her arm.

"I apologize Christine," Spock said. "I would never intentionally hurt you. Or anyone, really. But especially you. You are…very special to me. I—"

"Enough of the sweetalking, lover boy," McCoy said. "You need to focus on what you will tell T'Pau. Chris, come over here and sit down. Have some water. You too, Jim, you're looking very, ah, _pink_."

Christine and Kirk sat down together on a nearby stone partly shaded from the sun. McCoy knelt in front of them. "Jim, I'd like to give you a triox injection, too. It'll compensate for the thinner air here.

Kirk waved him off. "I'm fine Bones. But I will have that water and sunscreen."

Spock tore his gaze from Christine and tried to focus on T'Pring. "We need to prepare a logical argument for T'Pau. Perhaps appeal to her own history balancing logic with emotion."

Stonn nodded. "Yes, but like many elderly, she grows more conservative with age. She has even spoken to my parents about my books…she feels they are illogically fanciful and deal with too many unlikely situations."

"Escapism," T'Pring chimed in. "She does not approve of activities that divert and rely upon imagination."

"I can understand T'Pau's initial reaction," Spock said thoughtfully. "But studies show that stimulating the imagination can help create and expand neural pathways that in turn activate more of the intellectual sections of the brain."

McCoy walked over to join them. "All of you need to focus on T'Pau, not Stonn's books," he scolded. "Are all of you going through the Time?"

The three looked at one another. "It is possible," T'Pring answered. "Stonn began showing symptoms a month ago and I a fortnight ago. Apparently it triggered for Spock as your ship came closer to Earth."

"This means you may be the most logical one among us, McCoy," Stonn said and almost smiled.

By then, the Humans could hear the bells and marching. "T'Pau?" McCoy asked.

Spock nodded. "Logically, yes."

"Smartass." McCoy shook his head and looked back at Jim and Christine. Christine waved. "We're OK," she called.

McCoy turned back to face a trembling Spock. He noticed his hands were fisted. "Easy, boy," he said. "She was just telling me that she and the Captain are fine. She wasn't waving _to_ me."

Spock relaxed his hands and put them behind him. "My apologies, Doctor. I find I am becoming most…anxious."

The bells and marching became louder still. McCoy put his hands over his ears. "Must she make such a racket?" he groused.

The group turned to see a caravan coming toward them, led by a couple of priestesses with bells and a group of drummers. Behind them were four men carrying a sedan chair, followed by about six extremely large Vulcans armed with weapons similar to those in Spock's quarters.

Christine almost shivered. "Are you alright?" Kirk asked.

She nodded. "It's those medieval-looking weapons," she said absently. "Spock keeps a pair hanging near his bed."

Kirk absorbed this information for later reference. The nurse didn't report directly to Spock, he knew, and he and Spock had discussed adjusting the reporting chain to have the doctor report to him, the captain, instead of to Spock. Now he could see why Spock said this was logical.

The music (if one could call it that) finally stopped and T'Pau's caravan touched down. She rose from it gracefully enough for a 200-plus year old woman, Spock thought.

He went over to escort her to a throne-like chair the bell-bearers were carrying out for her. Once she was seated, he stepped back and gave her the Vulcan hand salute, the talaal. She returned his salute.

The bell-bearers now brought out a large gong.

T'Pring approached slowly. "I request permission to speak, T'Sai." (1)

T'Pau looked at her and shook her head ever so slightly.

Spock slowly walked over to the gong and picked up a mallet that lay in front of it. He struck the gong once and replaced the mallet.

T'Pau looked at him. "The gong requires two strikes," she said. "Thee should know this, Spock."

Spock clasped his hands and walked over to her. "I must speak with you, T'Sai," he said quietly.

"Art thou in fever?" T'Pau asked.

Spock nodded. "Yes, but it is tempered by my Human half. I am in possession of my senses."

"Do thee burn?"

"I do, but I control it when she who I desire is near." He indicated to the group of Humans who stood with Stonn several steps away in the shade.

T'Pau glanced at the group. Then she looked over past Spock to T'Pring. "I see thy chosen mate does not join thee. Has there been an offense?"

"No, T'Sai, no offense is taken when none is intended. T'Pring and I prefer other mates."

"Thee do not wish to join?"

"No, T'Sai."

T'Pau looked at T'Pring and beckoned her over. T'Pring quickly walked over, her heart hammering against her side. She yearned to look back at Stonn but did not dare.

"Thee do not wish to join with Spock?"

"No, T'Sai, I do not."

"Has Spock caused thee offense?"

"No…" T'Pring hesitated.

"Speak!" T'Pau commanded.

T'Pring turned to Spock. She took a barely perceptible deep breath.

"Spock," she began, "we were joined at a young age. We saw one another rarely. When you left for Terra, you did not consult with me; you merely informed me you were leaving.

"I was young. Your actions offended me. I felt that by leaving, you were stating you wanted nothing from T'Khasi. (2) I did not know what to do, so I shut you out."

Spock lowered his eyes. "I regret causing you pain. My actions were that of an immature youth. I thought only of myself. I apologize."

"I accept your apology."

"So it is settled!" T'Pau declared.

"No!" Spock and T'Pring said at the said time. T'Pau's eyes widened. "The two of you…do not wish to be joined?"

"No, T'Sai," Spock answered.

"T'Pring? Thee wish to release thy mate?"

"I do, T'Sai."

"This is highly illogical. It is unprecedented. Spock, a true Vuhlkansu (3) would fight for his mate, would he not?"

"Only if he desired his mate," Spock answered. "I desire another."

"I do, too," T'Pring added.

"Silence, girl!" T'Pau commanded. "Or thee will end up nothing, alone, _shunned_."

"Never!" someone shouted. "She will never be alone!"

T'Pau's eyes widened again. She looked in the direction from where the call came and spotted Stonn. "Is that the novelist?" she asked.

"It is Stonn," T'Pring replied. She still felt shaky but relieved that Stonn had taken some of T'Pau's attention off her.

Stonn marched over to the group. "T'Pring shall never be alone as long as I am alive," he stated.

"Is that so?" T'Pau asked. "She has been bonded to another since her seventh year. Tradition dictates this can only be broken with a challenge to her mate."

"But I do not wish to mate with her," Spock spoke up. "I desire another."

"Which is illogical," T'Pau stated. "Stonn, you must challenge Spock—"

"I decline a challenge," Spock interrupted. T'Pau fixed him with a stare.

"Forgive me, T'Sai, but it is illogical to require two to bond who do not desire one another."

A silence descended over the group. In the distance, a le-matya howled.

"You tell me the bond is illogical?" T'Pau asked.

"Yes, T'Sai, in this instance it is."

"Explain."

"Where is the logic in bonding two who desire other mates? Where is the logic in needless bloodshed to force this?"

T'Pring stepped forward. "T'Sai, if I may. During the time Spock has been away from T'Khasi, he has become quite a legend. I do not wish to become consort to a legend. Stonn wants me and I want Stonn.

If Stonn were to fight Spock, he would likely die. And Spock would still not want me. I still would not want Spock. Spock would be gone and I would be left with property and a name that is useless to me."

"If Spock were to die at Stonn's hand, there would be no heir to his father's house. His brother has been cast aside. There would be a long gap until another heir were produced for the House of Surak."

"More likely, Spock would kill Stonn and Vulcan would be deprived of one of its greatest writers."

T'Pau sniffed. "That is an illogical and emotional opinion, T'Pring. Thee should be ashamed—"

"Shame is an illogical emotion. Love, however, is the most logical one there is. I love Stonn and he loves me. Keeping us apart is what is illogical. Forcing Spock and I to bond is, thankfully, impossible as well as illogical."

"How so?"

"We both refuse. Unless you were to commit kae'at k'lasa, (4) it cannot happen. As that is a crime for which you and your followers were falsely accused of committing in your youth. I cannot believe you would commit this most serious offence for the sake of upholding an illogical tradition that serves no purpose."

T'Pau stood up. "Thee are a most irresponsible young female," she huffed at T'Pring. "And thee," she turned to Spock, "are thou a real Vuhlkansu or not?"

Spock stiffened. "I burn, T'Pau," he said. " _I burn_. But I will not kill to stop the burning. I know how to control it as long as I must. If one must descend into the madness that plagued our ancestors, then I am not a real Vulcan and nor do I wish to be one. I am proud of my heritage—both parts of it.

"The blood of my mother gives me control few Vulcans cannot, do not, have. I shall not, and shall never, dishonor my mother's heritage—nor that of my father."

He lifted his hand once more. "Live long and prosper, T'Pau. I plan to do just that." He turned to T'Pring and Stonn. "Live long and prosper." They silently returned his salute.

Spock turned, and stiffly walked off toward the group of Humans—his crewmates, his fellow officers, his friends.

Stonn wordlessly saluted T'Pau, took T'Pring by the arm, and led her away.

Kirk looked at his First Officer. "Is everything settled, Mr. Spock?"

"Yes, Captain, it is."

Kirk pulled out his communicator. "Four to beam up, Scotty."

T'Pau watched them shimmer away. She turned to her gaping Vulcan attendants. "What are thou looking at? Take me home!"

* * *

Stonn and T'Pring slowly walked down Mt. Selaya and back home.

"How would you write this, Stonn?" T'Pring asked.

Stonn paused. "I was just thinking about this. I would have written you to choose Kirk as your champion in kal'i'fee." (5)

"Kirk? He knows nothing of our customs."

"That would not concern T'Pau. She would find a way to compel him."

"So where is the logic in killing Kirk?"

"That would not happen. McCoy would intervene before Spock could kill Kirk—if he could actually do so. Did you observe McCoy giving the female Human a triox injection?"

"Yes."

"I have a feeling the good doctor would have an antidote to triox in his little black bag. I would write thus: McCoy would insist that Kirk needed triox to compensate for the air and make it a fair fight. Instead, he would inject an antidote, causing Kirk to pass out. He would then declare Kirk dead, and the fight would be over."

"And I would belong to Spock!"

"Only temporarily. Spock does not want you. If he were to kill his Captain, he would turn himself over to Starfleet. He would never return to Vulcan. You would have his name and his property, and me. I would still be there."

They walked on in silence. "T'Pring? What do you think of my story?" Stonn asked.

"I think you should write it just to knock the old _starok_ (6) off her sedan chair!"

* * *

(1) Honorific for a high-ranking female

(2) Vulcan planet

(3) Member of the Vulcan race

(4) Mind-rape

(5) Challenge over a mate to battle until one participant is killed

(6) Bat


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11, Loneliness**

Back on the Enterprise, Kirk dismissed the landing party, after listening to McCoy's instructions to re-hydrate and agreeing to see him later to ensure his fluids were restored. He did a quick check-in with the Bridge before returning to his quarters for a much-needed shower.

Sulu, who he left in command, reported nothing unusual. Neither did Scotty, who asked him if they could meet for a drink in the Officer's Lounge later that night. He agreed, pleased that some of the senior crew were finally starting to reach out to him.

Truth was, he didn't make friends easily. He was fine with small talk, even flirting with many of the attractive female aliens he'd encountered on past missions, and had enjoyed more than his fair share of quick little romances.

He'd been thrilled to be offered command of the Enterprise, but he also understood that he was selected in part because of his attractiveness and ability to get along with beings from all cultures and planets. But he also knew his appointment was made over the heads of other, more experienced captains and that there had been quite a bit of grumbling at the "pretty boy's" appointment.

Once on board, he found himself with a crew of virtual strangers. He had met Spock years ago when the Vulcan was still at the Academy, and Scotty some years ago when they served together on a brief mission to the far edge of the Alpha Quadrant to investigate a possible source of dilithium.

But now, at the top of the command heap, on a ship he hadn't served previously, it was a little lonely. So Scotty's invitation was a much-welcomed diversion from his usual duties that he'd allowed to consume his off-duty time. It was certainly better than brooding.

* * *

The Captain having departed the transporter room, McCoy looked over at Spock. "See me in Sick Bay," he ordered the Vulcan, who raised an eyebrow at him. "Don't give me the brow," he warned. "I'm immune to your little diversionary tactics, Spock."

Chapel giggled.

"You too, Nurse. I want to make sure your system isn't overloaded with that Vulcan voodoo."

Once in Sick Bay, McCoy motioned Spock to sit. "Let me check Christine first."

Spock followed him into the exam station. "What are you doing here, Spock?" McCoy asked. "I told you to wait outside."

"I cannot allow you to examine Christine without my presence, Doctor," Spock responded calmly.

"Come again?"

"Do I need to repeat myself, McCoy?"

Spock never called him McCoy. It was either Doctor, or Dr. McCoy. He'd refer to him by his surname, but never actually called him that. Once or twice, he'd called him Leonard and referred to him as such in the presence of his parents. But McCoy? Never.

Chapel giggled again. McCoy sighed.

"Christine, if it's all right with you, can Spock watch the exam from over there?" he gestured to a seat next to the exam table where he normally spoke to patients before they hopped on an exam pod.

"I prefer to stand."

"I was speaking to Christine, Spock, not to you."

"T'hy'la?"

"What?" Chapel asked, as McCoy sighed.

"T'hy'la." It is the name one addresses to one's beloved."

Chapel's eyes opened wide.

"And to close friends, Spock," McCoy interjected. "Unless there's been an arrangement I wasn't aware of."

"Christine…are you offended if I call you my t'hy'la?"

"I…uh…" Chapel looked to McCoy, who shrugged.

"Leave her alone, Spock. She's probably a little dehydrated from visiting that burning ball of sand you call home."

Spock sat down, looking almost dejected. "Christine, you must know, I would never wish to offend you or make you uncomfortable."

McCoy took a scanner to Christine. "Yeah, you've lost some fluids. I'll hook up an IV. But more so, your hormonal levels are high. It's probably because of your proximity to Spock here."

"Do I need to do anything?"

McCoy looked directly at her. "Well, darlin', I'd suggest a BC booster if you plan on hanging out with Mr. Spock much longer."

"A BC booster?"

"It is the burning," Spock said. To McCoy's ears, his sounded _sad_. "I am afraid you have it as well."

"Is there a, um, a cure?" Chapel asked, struggling to not laugh. She wasn't sure why she had to struggle; she felt her mind was veering off on a course of its own.

"Yes." Spock and McCoy spoke in unison.

The answer baffled her for a moment. Then she got it. "Oh, I see."

McCoy shooed them out of sickbay an hour later after giving Chapel an IV to restore her fluids and a BC shot for them both. Spock could have left but insisted on remaining with Chapel.

"Both of you need to drink a lot of water the next few days," he advised. "Let me know if you need medical leave."

They stood alone together, outside Sick Bay, not sure what to do next.

"Well, um, I'd like get back to my quarters for a shower," Chapel finally said.

"I can offer you a water shower," Spock said.

"Really?"

"Of course. It would be illogical to offer something I cannot provide."

"No, I mean, how? We have water showers in Sick Bay but they are for patients who need hydrotherapy."

"Senior officers are given an allocation for water showers. You are welcome to mine, Christine."

It was too hard to resist. A quarter-hour later, she stood under a warm water spray for the first time since she'd boarded the Enterprise seven months prior. She could hear Spock strumming his lyre just outside the head.

* * *

Kirk was enjoying his own water shower. The cool water felt good after Vulcan's heat. He wondered how McCoy and other Humans handled living on Vulcan.

Or Spock's mother for that matter. It was no real secret to Starfleet's upper echelon that the senior Vulcan in the service was not just the first to enter the Academy. He was also the son of Sarek, Vulcan's famed ambassador to Terra, and his Human wife.

Kirk had never met Sarek but had heard him speak at the Academy about how Vulcan was dedicated to working with Terra on furthering space exploration. At the time, he couldn't have possibly foreseen that his own, and only, child would be the first Vulcan cadet. The handful of Vulcan who followed now-Admiral T'Pol into Starfleet came from the Vulcan Defence Force. Spock was the first Vulcan to go through the full Academy program.

He wondered when his First Officer would open up and tell him about his famous father. Why hadn't Sarek and his wife been at the almost-wedding? Vulcan traditions and norms were still largely a mystery to him. He'd have to learn as he went along, just as Archer had so many years ago.

He dressed in casual off-duty clothes and headed to the Officers Lounge to meet Scotty. It was all he could do to not bound in like an overeager puppy. The engineer was already at the bar, chatting with the crewman who did double-duty tending bar and working in them mess. The crewman stood up straight at attention as Kirk approached the bar.

"At ease, Crewman."

Scotty stood up. "What can I get you Captain?"

"Mr. Scott, your taste is impeccable. I will have whatever you're drinking and it's on my tab. No arguing, he added," as Scott started to protest.

They took their drinks to a table near a window and sipped their drinks. Kirk looked at Scott. "MacPhail," Scott said. "Not the best but far from bad. Much better than that Kentucky water Dr. McCoy always orders."

Kirk grinned. "I don't have a dog in this fight, Mr. Scott, but I'll take your excellent opinion under serious consideration."

They chatted a bit about news from the Academy and changes in the engineering curriculum. "I keep tellin' them they can't lose the basics. Changing around some of the upper-level courses is fine but the core coursework can't be fiddled with."

"Captain," Scott said after a few minutes. "I hafta know, is Mr. Spock going to be all right?"

Kirk took a breath. Scott was a senior officer and often relied on the Science Officer for backup. He needed to know more than he'd explained to the bridge crew. He deserved to know.

"Scotty, everything I tell you must be confidential. You understand, correct?" Scott nodded.

"Mr. Spock has been going through a physiological, or biological—I'm really not sure how to categorize it—process that is quite normal for Vulcans his age. He needed to go to Vulcan to sort out a relationship issue that could determine how he should proceed."

"Please tell me he didn't marry that girl," Scotty said.

Kirk blinked. "You knew about this?"

"Aye. I knew Spock at the Academy. He was a coupla years behind me, well, he actually graduated just one year after me since he tested out so many classes what with a degree from Vulcan Science. We were teammates."

"On the hockey team."

"Aye."

"Funny, I actually met Spock after a game his junior year, I think it was. I went to a game with a friend who'd also played when he was in the Academy. Would I have seen you playing then?"

"Ah, 'tis possible. I played at left wing but my senior year I deferred to another player who was serious about goin' pro after finishing duty. I knew I wasn't pro material."

"It was against Notre Dame. Spock came out in the second half and the crowd went nuts, yelling 'Live Long and Prosper' and all that."

Scot grinned. "Spock never knew what to make of that. Yes, I substituted a few times in that game. I remember a crowded penalty box."

Kirk shook his head. "I knew Spock is close to McCoy and I know you call on him to help every now and then—"

"Very often, in fact, Captain. Mr. Spock is a…a _genius_."

Kirk smiled. "You may well be right about that, Mr. Scott. He's certainly hard to beat at chess."

"So, Captain—this Vulcan thing he's going through—will he be all right?"

"You're worried about him."

"Aye, sir."

"I think Mr. Spock knows what he wants and doesn't want. I think he's prepared to do what it takes to live the life he wants, and that includes his friends. Old friends like you."

"And like you, too, sir."

Kirk took a sip. "I hope so Mr. Scott, I certainly do."

"Aye, I think so, sir. You're good people."

Kirk tipped his glass in acknowledgement. "You're good people, too, Mr. Scott."

"Is it lonely at the top, sir?"

"It was, Mr. Scott, until Spock asked me to accompany him to Vulcan and you invited me to meet here for a drink."

"But you meet regularly with officers and staff here, Captain."

"Yes, I do, but that's scheduled. Just meeting and talking with a friend, now that's different. And it makes me feel less alone. Much more so."

He looked at Scott's empty glass and tipped his back to finish. "Scotty, let me introduce you to a good friend of mine I brought on board, Mr. Dalmore."

* * *

Christine turned off the shower, grabbed a towel Spock left for her, and wrapped herself in it. She took another towel hanging on the door for her hair. It smelled faintly like Spock himself whenever they happened to bump into one another early in his shifts.

She opened a bag she'd brought with her, found her brush and some light body spray and brushed out her hair. She pulled on a pair of light capris and t-shirt. It was a bit difficult dressing in the tight head space.

"Ouch! _Damn_!" she yelled as her elbow smacked against the basin.

"Christine? Are you injured?" Spock called from outside.

"No, I just hit my funnybone."

"Funnybone?"

"My ulnar nerve. I hit it against the basin."

"Ah. You could have dressed out here."

She emerged from the head and shook out her arm. "I wasn't sure if that was wise."

He looked directly at her. "I would never wish you to be uncomfortable. Or injured. And for the record, I am a Vulcan. I am in control of my emotions."

"Except when you aren't, Spock."

He sighed and lay down his lyre. "Christine, I do not know what to do. I desire you greatly, but I cannot—I _will not_ —force you or otherwise persuade you to do something with which you are not fully in agreement."

"Even if it would restore you to you usual logical self?"

He nodded.

Christine sighed. "How is it logical for me to leave you in such a state when I find that doing so leaves me nearly the same?"

She walked over to where he sat and stood over him. He looked up at her. "I feel alone without you," she said. "Lonely. I thought I was used to it."

She drew a hand through his short hair and marveled at how soft it was. He closed his eyes and leaned his head into her hand. "It is not logical," she murmured and leaned down to kiss him.


End file.
